Becoming Mrs Gatsby
by Hope4thehopeless
Summary: BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND, ORIGINALLY AUTHORED BY RECOVERING4LIFE...Gatsby/OC. AU. The green light from across the bay blinked and Rebecca watched it wondering if there would ever be a day where pretending to be happy wouldn't be a monumental chore.
1. Prologue: Million Dollar Man

**Author's Note:**

 **Back by popular demand. Explicit consent has been given by Recovering4life to re-post her story! Enjoy!**

* * *

 ** _Prologue: Million Dollar Man_**

 _"...One for the money, two for the show_

 _I love you honey, I'm ready, I'm ready to go_

 _How did you get that way? I don't know._

 _You're screwed up and brilliant,_

 _Look like a million dollar man,_

 _So why is my heart broke?..."_

~ "Million Dollar Man" - Lana Del Rey

 **November,** **1920...**

Rebecca Gatsby stood on the dock holding on tightly to the iron rail. Bitterness was growing in her chest as she looked across the bay to the Buchanan Mansion. She wanted someone to have the blame for what had happened to her sister and for what had happened to her family. Mary Harper had been a fun loving, innocent young woman. She'd always pushed the envelope, but was always forgiven in the end. The Harper Dynasty, one of the oldest and most respected families in New York City, had been able to use their wealth to cover up plenty of Mary's affairs. However, the last affair that she'd been involved with had nearly left the family reputation in ruins.

Rebecca blamed Mary for so much, but Mary wasn't alone. Rebecca blamed her parents for indulging Mary's every whim and she blamed herself the most for not checking Mary's wild behavior. She was an older sister and it should have been her job to make sure that Mary behaved, but she hadn't and now everyone had paid. Mary had been cast out of the family and was now living God only knew where with God only knew whom. Her parent's anger had known no bounds when they blamed everyone for their near ruin.

Marrying Jay Gatsby had saved everyone in the end, but the cold water had been splashed on her the same day her mother had rejoiced. Gatsby was one of the richest men in New York City and one of the most influential. His name connected with the Harper's had made people forget all about Mary Harper and the scandal that had shook the city only a year earlier. Katherine Harper, matriarch of the family, was happy that doors were now open to her. She boasted often that she claimed Jay Gatsby as her son-in-law. Rebecca's father, Edward Harper, was happy that his business was booming thanks to the Gatsby connection. Rebecca's youngest sister, Elizabeth, was accepted into society with open arms at her coming out with many rich, handsome young men after her hand and the connection to Gatsby.

Everyone but Rebecca was happy and she could still remember the days when the imaginary fairy tale she'd created for herself was shattered…

 _She stared at the engagement ring on her hand._

 _It was a pretty ruby surrounded by diamonds that rested on her ring finger. It felt heavier than it really was on her finger. The man who had given it to her had sat in her father's library discussing God only knew what the night before their wedding day._

 _Jay Gatsby..._

 _He was charming and sweet and she adored him. Just when it felt like all hope had been lost to ever recover their reputations after Mary's scandalous behavior with another, Gatsby had come asking to court her. It had been a time of havoc in their lives and in their household. Mr. Harper had already tossed Mary out and it had frightened Rebecca down to the very bone. Despite all the tears, screaming, and yelling, Mary had been sent away and was never coming back._

 _Her mother was angry at her husband and blamed Rebecca for Mary's fall, believing that in no way was she as Mary's mother was at fault. Elizabeth had retreated deeply into her studies and rarely went outside her room. Rebecca herself felt lost not knowing how to continue on as her parents fought viciously over whose fault it was that Mary had been tarnished beyond repair._

 _Everything had changed though one winter evening at the opera during the second intermission. Sitting quietly with her friend, Mildred Banks, and the rest of the Banks family, Rebecca had been approached by a gentleman with beautiful blue eyes. He was like a breath of fresh air and in the space of one night Rebecca had felt herself taken with him._

 _He'd made her laugh and smile with his stories and she'd felt like a bird high in the sky when he'd asked to call on her later. Without hesitation, Rebecca had agreed. She had partly agreed out of fear of what her mother and father would do if they'd learned that she'd turned down a potential husband, but the man had truly interested her beyond reason. On the way home from the opera, Mildred had questioned Rebecca on everything she'd found out about Jay Gatsby. Just saying his name out loud that night had made her blood sing on high._

 _True to his word, Jay Gatsby had called on her house just a little after one o'clock a few days later. It had shocked her mother that someone as rich and as powerful as Jay Gatsby would have any interest in her, but Katherine Harper had latched on quickly to the idea that any of her daughters would marry Gatsby. Rebecca had watched as her mother did everything in her power to promote how good a wife her eldest daughter could be to Mr. Gatsby._

 _Gatsby was all Katherine talked about day and night for the three months Gatsby had courted her. Her mother_ _had sent them walking in Central Park the moment warm weather had come in March. They'd gone dancing at every major event that they attended together and to Katherine's delight, everyone knew that Rebecca Harper was Jay Gatsby's future wife. Gatsby had even taken her to the theater a few times to see plays and operas once she'd confessed that it was a favorite entertainment of hers. He'd even taken her driving in his car a few times with her younger sister to see the beauty of his home in West Egg._

 _In the course of three months, Rebecca had found herself falling in love with Jay Gatsby and it wasn't very hard not to love a man like him._

 _In late April, Jay had hosted a party and had asked her and her family to attend. Katherine had dressed everyone to perfection and their driver had taken them out to Gatsby Manor. After dinner had been served and the men had separated from the women, Gatsby had taken her out to the beautiful gardens. His proposal had been so simple. The ring had been beautiful and she'd recognized it as the ring she'd picked out with Elizabeth when Gatsby had asked them to go watch shopping with him weeks earlier._

 _In that moment, Rebecca had been so sure that he'd loved her. There hadn't been a doubt in her head that Jay Gatsby didn't love her._ _She'd said yes and tears had come. Tears of joy and Jay had insisted with a smile that they go back to the house so that he could show off his beautiful, future wife to the group. Rebecca had been so happy that night and the days afterwards that she didn't think that anything could ever rob her of her joy._

 _She'd been wrong._

 _Gatsby became more and more withdrawn as the wedding had approached and it made her nervous._

 _Was he questioning his choice in a bride?_

 _Was he falling out of love with her?_

 _Did he not care at all about their marriage?_

 _Her mother had told her over and over again that Jay Gatsby was a busy man and probably working hard so that when they were married, there would be more time to spend together. Rebecca had accepted her words halfheartedly and tried to believe them, but something inside her said otherwise._

 _It had been a warm day on August seventh, her wedding day, when Rebecca had been woken up by her maid, Tilly. From the moment Rebecca had opened her eyes she'd been a bundle of nerves. Her worst fear of Gatsby never showing up and running off played over and over again in her mind. Even as Tilly dressed her in the white wedding gown, Rebecca found it hard to breathe._

 _Long sleeved with beautiful fabric, the dress had been made by one of them most sought after seamstresses in the city and was stunning. Made of a soft chiffon fabric, the dress was loose and flowing around her legs and had a waist band that was just above her navel and tied in the back as a bow. The neck of the dress covered her collar bones and was embroidered with flowers and jewels, just like it was around the hem of the dress and her wrists. Her long, silky blond hair had been pulled back into a soft and loose chignon at the base of her neck and a bejeweled head band was placed in her hair._

 _Her mother had insisted that the train of the dress and veil be long and some maids worked on last minute stitching to anything that looked like it needed to be mended. Diamond earrings hung from her ears and the more Rebecca stared at the mirror, the more nervous she'd felt. She began to question everything and quickly dismissed everyone. The beautiful engagement ring stared back at her and she wanted to see Jay in that moment._

 _She wanted him to tell her everything would be alright. Nothing was wrong and all that mattered was their happiness and their future together._

 _The door swung open and Katherine Harper walked in already dressed and her hat was on. In one look Katherine must have known what she was thinking because a frown marred her face._

 _"Don't even think about calling off this wedding," she said with a scowl. "We've had one scandal. This family can't handle another."_

 _"I wasn't thinking that at all, Mama," Rebecca replied truthfully. "How do I look?"_

 _Katherine's face softened a little, "Gatsby will think he's marrying a queen."_

 _Rebecca managed to smile back at her mother, "I'm ready."_

 _The drive to the church passed in a blur and Rebecca could barely remember anything but blurry buildings passing them by. Pulling up to the chapel doors, Rebecca took a deep breath and tried to focus on not tripping or falling over. Everyone in New York Society had been invited to the wedding and she refused to embarrass herself in front of any of them. Her father offered her his arm and stepping inside, the heavy wooden doors to the worship area of the cathedral were closed. The last flower girl had walked down the aisle and she gripped her father's arm tightly as he squeezed her hand back. Turning to look back at him, Rebecca was met with a mirror reflection of her own blue eyes._

 _A small smile graced his face._

 _"You look beautiful Rebecca," he said softly "Just like your mother did on her wedding day."_

 _Rebecca nodded for she was too nervous to speak. It was true that she looked exactly like her mother except for eyes. She didn't have Katherine Harper's green eyes; she had her father's soft blue ones. A handsome man, Mr. Harper had dark hair with grey beginning to show around his temples. Fit, he didn't look a day over thirty-five when he was far closer to fifty-five then he'd ever admit. Rebecca could see why her mother had been attracted to him, but she hoped that there would be more to her marriage than her parent's marriage._

 _The only thing that existed between them was three daughters and cold, icy partnership that had left them both looking for love in other thing._ _Her father was always with another woman and her mother took comfort in her material things._

 _"Ready?" he asked._

 _Rebecca looked at him and nodded. The door opened and immediately she felt weak in the knees seeing all the people staring at her. If it hadn't been for her father's hold on her, she was sure she'd have fainted. Whispers went around the cathedral as they all looked at her dress and watched her. Walking down the aisle felt like it took hours but, within a few short minutes she was standing next a handsome looking Gatsby in a grey morning suit._ _A soft smile was on his face that was reassuring to her and all the fears she'd had inside vanished to only be replaced by joy._

 _If anyone would have asked her if she'd remembered anything from the wedding and the party that followed Rebecca wouldn't have been able to answer. Everything was a blur in her mind of colors and music. People were smiling at them and wishing them the best. Everything had been so wonderful that when it came time to retire, Rebecca couldn't believe that the day had passed so quickly. Gatsby had left her in the care of her maid and had simply said that the evening was pleasant and he hoped she'd enjoyed herself._

 _Rebecca had barely had the chance to reply before Gatsby was gone leaving her alone in the large suite of rooms that were hers at Gatsby Manor. The largest sitting room she'd ever been in was the first room she walked into. Double doors were open directly across from the doors that opened to the hallway. They led to a beautiful large bedroom that had been done in soft blues, greens and creams. The bed sheets were silky to the touch and the large windows that nearly went from floor to ceiling looked out at the bay._

 _A green light was in the distance and it was entrancing to watch for a moment. Tilly found her there watching the light and took her back to the sitting room and through a second set of doors to the left of the main bedroom doors. Her dressing room was beautiful._ _A vanity sat in the middle of the room with all kinds of creams, perfumes and make up on it. Beyond the vanity was a large painting that Rebecca recognized as being an original Antoine Vestier._ _It was a portrait of a lady with a book and a beautiful navy blue sash around her waist._

 _Walking to it, Rebecca ran her fingertips gently over the frame and was surprised when she heard a soft click. The portrait gently sung open to reveal a large vault that was inside the wall._

 _"Mr. Crawley said that the vault is where you're jewels are kept, ma'am," Tilly said quietly from behind her. "Mr. Gatsby has the combination. I was told to tell you that you must ask him for it. I'm not allowed to have the combination. Your bath is ready though, ma'am."_

 _Rebecca nodded and turned back. She silently followed her maid to a large, porcelain bathtub and quickly found herself in the hot water, nervously thinking about what was to come later in the evening. Tilly quickly helped her to bath and washed her hair. Within a half hour, Rebecca found herself sitting on the ottoman in her sitting room waiting for Gatsby to come to her as she'd been told he would._

 _Her mother had explained to her how Gatsby would come to her room and she was to let him do exactly as he pleased. Katherine hadn't given much detail and it left Rebecca anxious, but curious to know what would happen. The only kiss she'd shared with Gatsby was when the priest had told him he could kiss his bride. If tonight was supposed to feel anything like the feeling of his lips on hers earlier, Rebecca was sure it couldn't be horrible like her mother had made it out to be._

 _Glancing at the clock, Rebecca twisted the silver band that was no next to the ruby engagement ring and wondered what was taking Gatsby so long to come to her. They'd both left the party a little after midnight and it was now close to two in the morning. She wondered if he'd simply fallen asleep, but more sinister thoughts came and her mother's voice taunted her inside saying that Gatsby was with other women because he wasn't interested in his little bride._ _Getting up and not bothering to slip on the soft silk slippers that were next to her, Rebecca left her suite and began exploring the mostly dark house._

 _At the end of the hall, elegant double doors were closed, but light crept out from behind the door onto the shiny but cold marble floors beneath her tiny feet. Something inside of her said that Gatsby was through the door and Rebecca slowly reached out for the elegant door handle. Turning it slowly, she pushed the door open and looked around the impressive master bedroom. It was bright inside and she see few pieces of furniture. A large inviting bed was in the middle of the room, but it only held her attention for a moment. A soft breeze caressed her skin from the open glass doors that looked out over the bay. The nearly transparent curtains that were supposed to cover the four sets of large, opened French doors fluttered in the breeze._

 _Gatsby sat in one of the twin chairs that were near the middle set of doors. His long legs were crossed and he held a glass of brandy in one hand. He was still dressed elegantly in his grey morning suit from the wedding and his hair was combed back. Rebecca briefly wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through it as he kissed her. The thought made her warm and tingly all over in a way she couldn't understand. Pushing the thought away for later, she walked towards him but was startled when he spoke._

 _"What are you doing here?"_

 _Gatsby didn't even bother to get up or look at her when he spoke. He just continued to stare out at the bay and the flashing green light._

 _"How did you know I was there?" she asked him softly._

 _"Your perfume…it's French," he said before repeating himself. "What are you doing here?"_

 _Rebecca shoved aside the shock she had that he knew where her perfume was from as reached out a hand and held on to the back of his chair._

 _"Looking for you," she answered nervously. She'd never seen this side of Gatsby and it made her scared. He seemed so cold and distant that she wasn't sure how to respond._

 _"Why?"_

 _"Are we not going to-" she stopped not knowing what to say as she watched him stand up and adjust his wedding suit tie._

 _"Do you want to know the truth of the world?" he asked her, looking exceedingly bored. "People use each other to get what they want or need. We do it all the time without even really realizing."_

 _"I don't understand," Rebecca said with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn't want to know what he meant because she knew deep down that she wouldn't like the truth._

 _"It's very simple. I needed a wife with money and connections while you needed a marriage to save your family's reputation from ruin," Gatsby replied without emotion. "We've used each other and now we've done our parts. Go to bed, Mrs. Gatsby. Don't come back to these room."_

 _Gatsby settled back down into his chair and looked out the window to the bay where the green light across the bay was still flashing. Rebecca couldn't stop the sting of rejection as it overwhelmed her. It hurt more than she could have ever imagined and a tear fell down her cheek. Him calling her 'Mrs. Gatsby' was only a taunt. It twisted the blade deeper into her pain._

 _"I thought I told you to leave," Gatsby snapped as he looked over his shoulder at her a second later. "Go!"_

 _His harsh voice startled her and Rebecca instantly turned away and walked out the door. She closed it behind her and for a moment she stood unsure of what to do. Slowly walking back to her rooms, Rebecca hugged herself and tried to fight the feelings swirling around her body. Tilly appeared out of nowhere and walked with her back to her room. Rebecca stood in front of the door as her maid opened it and a crushing realization hit her so hard that she nearly fell over._

 _Everything had been faked._

 _From his smiles of adoration to his gifts. He cared nothing for her. He'd just wanted her money and family name. The only small ray of hope shined through the horror and heartache was that she hadn't told him that she'd loved him. She'd been spared that humiliation and Rebecca was grateful. Tilly pulled back the bed sheets and helped her settle in without a problem. Extinguishing the light, Rebecca was alone in the darkness._

 _Somehow the dark was comforting and haunting at the same time. Every meeting, every moment, everything that she'd ever done with Gatsby raced in her mind as she went over every memory with a fine tooth comb. Knowing the truth know, Rebecca felt horror blooming deep inside her as she realized more and more she'd let her childish notions about love and marriage blind her to the truth._

 _Gatsby had never told her that he loved her or anything like that. She'd always assumed that he did and had never asked. Turning over and seeing the same green light that Gatsby had been looking at in his rooms, Rebecca promised herself that in the coming days she'd visit her mother and ask for advice. She wasn't good at this marriage thing and maybe her mother knew what to do. It was the last thing Rebecca remembered before falling asleep from exhaustion._

 _It was five days later that Rebecca was able to go and visit her mother in East Egg. In the days since she'd married Gatsby, Rebecca hardly saw him. Only on the first day did he have breakfast with her to explain how he wanted things done around his home. They dined again at dinner and afterwards, he left her alone to do business. Rebecca had spent the lonely evening playing the piano and had retired early knowing Gatsby wasn't coming to warm her bed._

 _On the second morning of their marriage, Gatsby hadn't bothered to come and break his fast with her. Instead, he sent his apologizes through the butler, Crawley. He met her only for dinner and left again after to do more work. The third day had been the same, as was the fourth._

 _On the fifth morning of their marriage when she'd been getting ready to leave, Gatsby hadn't shown up to see her off. Instead, Crawley had introduced her to Mr. Brighton, her personal driver and footman. He was responsible for getting and taking her to where ever she wanted to go._

 _Brighton was a handsome young man with dark hair and even darker eyes. His skin was pale and his chauffeur uniform was a dark green like the rest of the staff that took care of Gatsby Manor._

 _He'd helped her into the back of the black custom Rolls Royce that was now hers. Settling into the soft leather seats, Rebecca ran her gloved finger tips over the soft leather and swallowed. She just wanted to see her mother and be told that everything would be alright. She wanted comfort, but deep down Rebecca knew that Katherine Harper didn't have a comforting bone in her body._

 _While she wanted comfort, her mother would give her the undeniable truth and that was what Rebecca needed._

 _Brighton closed the door and quickly moved to the driver's seat. The drive to East Egg passed in a blur and soon they were pulling up in front of an extremely large manor. Brighton stopped the car in front of the large stone steps that led to dark double doors. Rebecca watched as the portly old man that was her parent's butler, Mr. Taylor, opened the front doors of Harper House and walked down the steps. Brighton opened her car door and held out a hand to assist her in getting out. Closing her legs, Rebecca slid out of the car as she had so many times before with her governess' voice in her head telling her exactly how a lady gets out of a car._

 _"Mrs. Gatsby," Taylor said in his deep gravelly voice. "A pleasure to see again, ma'am. Mrs. Harper is in the parlor. Should I announce you or would you like to forgo that formality?"_

 _"I will announce myself Taylor," Rebecca answered in a detached tone."Please see to Mr. Brighton. That's all."_

 _Stepping into the large marble foyer of Harper House, Rebecca was assisted out of her coat and gave her accessories including her hat and purse to Taylor's second in command, Mr. Harris. Quickly finding her way to the second floor parlor, Rebecca knocked on the door and was bid to enter. Stepping in, the sight of her mother and Elizabeth sitting together having tea and treats nearly made her cry._

 _"Rebecca!" Elizabeth exclaimed as she stood up from the couch and quickly flung herself into her older sister's arms. Rebecca laughed and caught Elizabeth in a tight hug._

 _"Oh, how I've missed you!"_ _Elizabeth exclaimed before pulling back and looked at her with glittering eyes. "You look so well! Becoming Mrs. Gatsby must have done something because you're simply glowing!"_

 _Rebecca simply smiled. She didn't have the heart to tell Elizabeth that her glow was from the happiness that was felt from seeing mother and sister again._

 _"Is Mr. Gatsby with you?" Mrs. Harper asked from her seat on the couch._

 _"He had business today to attend to. I am to tell you all that he wishes you all the best," Rebecca lied._

 _She wasn't prepared to tell her sister that she had made the mistake of marrying a man who held no affection for her. Elizabeth thought the world of Gatsby. Rebecca couldn't bring herself to destroy her sister's belief that her husband was the most wonderful man that ever existed._

 _"Elizabeth, you have studies to attend to," Mrs. Harper said sharply. "You had best finish them if you wish to go shopping with Georgina Miller."_

 _Elizabeth looked sad for a moment, but turned to look back at Rebecca with a smile._

 _"Promise me that you'll go shopping with me someday soon. We'll have to find a dress that Mr. Gatsby will absolute love on you," she whined and Rebecca couldn't help but to smile even more for Elizabeth's love of shopping was notorious and poor Gatsby's bank accounts would be devastated by a shopping trip with Elizabeth Harper._

 _"I promise. Now go," Rebecca laughed. "I will find a date and call you as soon as I am able. I'm sure your governess is looking for you. If I recall, you still haven't quite mastered Bach."_

 _"Who needs Bach when you have all these new big bands and Jazz? Honestly, classical music is boring," Elizabeth mumbled as she left the room with wave of her hand._

 _Hearing the parlor door close, Rebecca walked over to the couch that Elizabeth had just occupied across from their mother and watched as Mrs. Harper poured a cup of tea._

 _"She sounds just like Mary," Rebecca whispered mournfully._

 _Mrs. Harper ignored the comment and offered Rebecca the tea cup and saucer._

 _"You could always lie to Elizabeth, but you can't lie to me. Mr. Gatsby had no business of any today so why are you here instead of being at home entertaining your husband?" Mrs. Harper asked sharply after Rebecca had taken a few sips of tea._

 _Setting down her tea cup, Rebecca looked out the window and watched as rain slowly began to fall. The rain drops that ran down the glass in lines reminded her of tears._

 _"When did you know that father didn't love you?" she asked quickly as she looked back at her mother._

 _Mrs. Harper looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "Love? Your father has never loved me. He loves his whores. We both knew when we were married that it was never about love. It was about money and power. Is that what this visit is about?"_

 _"When I married Jay…I thought he was marrying me because he loves me. I married him because I do love him. I care for him, but he…he told me that he only married me because he needed a wife. Nothing more...I just…I don't know what to do."_

 _Mrs. Harper put her tea down and looked across the table hard at Rebecca, "Jay Gatsby is one of the richest men in New York City. You have anything and everything you could want possibly at your fingertips and you're complaining about him not loving you? Rebecca marriage isn't about that! Life isn't about love! Love is fleeting and never an absolute! But money, power and society? Those things are forever. Love can't possibly get those things for you. It was always obvious that Mr. Gatsby never loved you. He was a nice gentleman and doting to be sure, but love you? Never. Now knock the silly notion out of your head and fall back down into reality. For God's sake, all you have to do is give him a son or two and then you're free to do whatever you wish with whomever you wish."_

 _Rebecca stared at her mother in shock, "Are you suggesting that I cheat on Mr. Gatsby?"_

 _"Rebecca, it's time to grow up and get this romantic notion out of your head that fairy tales exist. Did Mr. Gatsby ever mention anything about love? He never mentioned anything about love or anything remotely close to it. Did he mention being faithful till his last dying breath? He never mentioned that either. You believed what you wanted to. Be thankful you at least have a nice husband. Joanna Jackson's daughter married a drunk gambler. It could be far worse. Here's my advice to you Rebecca, find a charity, a group, or something to occupy your time and thoughts while you wait to have a child and soon afterwards you can have a pick at all the men in the city. Do you know how many men will be vying for your bed? Plenty and you'll be happy. Love has nothing to do with it. Love is a like a spider that ensnares many in her web and they all die. Look at what happened to your sister. Do you want that ending? Look at what love got her."_

 _Rebecca was silent as she absorbed everything her mother said._

 _"Now let's talk about something else," Katherine Harper sighed. "This subject is over. You know what to do. Do you like your new home?"_

 _"I'm not allowed to change anything inside of it," Rebecca admitted remembering Gatsby's warning about leaving everything the way it was. Nothing was to be moved or changed or redesigned. Everything was exactly the way it was supposed to be and even if she disliked something it didn't matter to him._

 _Katherine Harper raised eyes brow, "Not allowed to change anything? Why not?"_

 _"Mr. Gatsby doesn't want me changing anything. He said that everything is perfectly decorated just the way he wants it," Rebecca replied in a dull tone. "I got the distinct feeling that…the house was ready for something."_

 _"Or someone," Mrs. Harper suggested with a sly look at her daughter as Rebecca's head turned sharply._

 _"What are you talking about mother?" she asked with surprise._

 _"Nothing at all. Now, tell me all about the grounds of Gatsby Manor. I know how much you adore flowers and gardens."_

 _Rebecca felt overwhelmed from the conversation and her replies to all her mother's questions after that were automatic. The end quickly came to the visit and Mrs. Harper accompanied her down to the foyer. Her mother's maid, Nell, helped her into her coat and gloves. Running her fingertips over her thin coat, Rebecca said goodbye and let Taylor open the front doors to Harper House. Walking down the steps, Rebecca let herself be handed into the car by Brighton._

 _The chauffeur closed the door and looking out the window; Rebecca watched as her mother turned away from the open doors and disappeared from her view._

 _How she would have loved to have been hugged by the other woman and told that everything would be alright. She could remember the last hug she'd received. Mary had come to her room late in tears and had hugged her tightly as she'd confessed to being pregnant._

 _She'd been devastated saying that the man had promised to marry her, but was now reneging on his promise to marry some high society girl from Kentucky._ _Mary had been so frightened and afraid of what would happen. Looking back, Mary must have known what would have happened once their parents knew about her pregnancy. It was the last time she'd hugged her sister. The feeling of Mary's head on her shoulders still lingered and Katherine Harper's words about love passed through her head._

 _Love had made Mary weak and immune to the bastard who'd left her with child. Love had made Rebecca weak enough to think that Gatsby was marrying her because he cared. The idea of love had blinded her to the sad reality of truth and Rebecca wondered if she hadn't fancied herself in love with him, would she have seen Gatsby for what he really was?_

 _She didn't care for the answer and the more she thought about, the more Rebecca wanted to lock away her complicated feelings for Gatsby. She didn't even know what she felt for him anymore and what it could be described as. She watched from the window as Brighton drove them back to West Egg._

 _Silently, Rebecca promised herself that she'd never let love inside her heart. Katherine Harper had been right about love. Love was for children and it belonged in bedtime stories. Love was an illusion and she wasn't going to be blinded by it anymore. She wasn't going to let the poison of love slip into her veins and kill her…_

"Mrs. Gatsby."

Rebecca blinked and turned back to look at the butler of Gatsby Manor and raised an eyebrow, "Yes, Crawley?"

"Mr. Gatsby's guest will be arriving soon. He requests that you come back to the house now."

Rebecca looked at the green light one last time and pushed away the feelings that had come up from remembering. Letting go of the rail, she walked up the wooden dock to the steps and looked up at the large manor that seemed more like a prison. She saw Jay standing the library window looking out across the bay as he held the telephone to his ear talking to someone.

She didn't care who it was, all she wanted was for the night to be over. She didn't want to entertain the wives of his business associates. She wanted to sleep so that come tomorrow night when everyone came to the weekly parties that Gatsby gave, she could make it through the night without willingly throwing herself into the pool and drowning.

Looking back down at the path, she missed Gatsby's eyes change focus and look at her.

* * *

Jay Gatsby watched as Rebecca walked up the path from the dock to the house. At twenty, she was a beautiful young woman. Medium height with curves and a lovely face, but there wasn't much beyond that. He found her personality dull and the things she enjoyed boring. When he'd married her, there had been one thing on his mind and that had been business.

Meyer Wolfsheim had pointed the Harper family out to him when news of the second oldest daughter's scandal hit the papers. They were an old, elite family in the mostly untouchable part of New York's society. Her family's connections were vast much like his and a connection like hers could quadruple business while getting many law enforcement agencies in their pockets.

When Meyer had pitched the idea to him it sounded perfect and he knew that once he had Daisy, it would be fairly simple to get Rebecca to leave. Her pride wouldn't let her stay with a man who cheated. Everything was planned out in his head.

He would have Daisy in the end.

He was determined that he would.

It had hurt, giving her the name Mrs. Gatsby, but Jay reminded himself over and over again it was a means to the end. Rebecca was the key to getting close to Daisy while growing the business. Everyone won at the end of the day and he truly didn't care what happened as long as he had his love, Daisy.

Daisy was just across the bay and soon, she'd be with him in the house he'd perfected. Everything was just the way it was meant to be. Gatsby had made it clear to everyone, including Rebecca that changing any one thing about the house risked a harsh punishment. In the first few weeks of marriage, Rebecca had been vocal about not liking the linen and disliking several pictures on the walls. Gatsby had forbidden her from changing anything including her rooms.

Slowly, but surely, she'd stopped saying anything about the house and she'd even stopped complaining about the weekly parties he threw trying to get Daisy to come to his house.

Listening to the other man on the phone in Chicago, Gatsby smiled a little seeing that as Rebecca turned to look over her shoulder at Crawley. He could see a fair amount of cleavage from her evening dress. Telling the man on the line that he had to go, Gatsby hung up the phone and left the library. He met Rebecca in the foyer a few minutes later and watched as she looked in the mirror and adjusted the diamond necklace she wore.

"Make sure Mrs. Harrison has good time tonight," he told her. "She has quite a bit of sway over her husband and I want her going home thinking she's had the best time of her life. Are we clear?"

Rebecca ignored him as her maid came up to her holding a tray. Gatsby watched as she picked up the red lipstick and applied it to her lips. She truly was a stunning woman who turned heads, but she wasn't Daisy.

While Rebecca had Daisy's coloring, she wasn't the beautiful woman he wanted. He found that compared to Daisy, Rebecca was so-so in everything. She wasn't nearly as accomplished as Daisy and she wasn't the fantastic hostess Gatsby knew Daisy was. In seven months of marriage, Gatsby knew that Rebecca was everything he'd described her to be to Meyer. Boring, dull with nothing remarkable about her accept for a pretty face. Meyer had laughed at him, but it was the truth.

"I know what to do," she finally said as she looked away from the mirror and looked back at him. "I have hosted parties before, Mr. Gatsby."

She put the lipstick back down on the silver tray and dismissed the maid. Gatsby continued to watch as she looked at herself in the mirror checking the threading on the soft pink dress she wore. Gold, silver, blues, greens and reds all were a part of the pattern in the dress that ended at her knees. The fringed hem line glittered in the lights as she turned to look at Crawley, who had mysteriously appeared.

"Mr. Harrison's car has been spotted, Mr. Gatsby," he announced.

"Good," Gatsby nodded. "We'll go meet them on the steps."

Rebecca followed him and they both secretly counted down the hours until the latest game of playing happily married newlyweds would be over. Gatsby wanted it over because he felt like he betrayed Daisy every time he did it. Rebecca wanted it over because having to act like she loved Gatsby only awoke feelings inside her that she desperately wanted to keep locked away.

The green light from across the bay blinked and Rebecca watched it wondering if there would ever be a day where pretending to be happy wouldn't be a monumental chore.

* * *

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	2. I: Heart's A Mess

**Part I: Heart's A Mess**

 _"...Your heart's a mess_

 _You won't admit to it_

 _It makes no sense_

 _But I'm desperate to connect_

 _And you, you can't live like this..."_

~ "Heart's A Mess" - Gotye

 **Two Years Later**

 **June 17, 1922**

The day was hot.

Nick Carraway sat on the large back porch of his small little cottage in West Egg and dabbed the sweat off his brow as he tried to push through another volume of the financial books he'd brought to study. Stocks were booming, buildings were getting bigger, parties were louder, liquor was cheaper and dresses were shorter than ever.

There was so much money to be made and he wanted in on it. The twenties were booming and he wanted to be a part of everything. A job opportunity had opened in the bonds business for him. Nick had come early to spend the summer on Long Island studying and preparing himself , but he hadn't gotten much done in the afternoons. The heat was stifling and a white parasol from next door always came out around two o'clock that proved to be distracting.

Whoever the woman was with the parasol, she was beautiful. Creamy white skin and pale, blonde hair made her look almost like a porcelain doll with ruby red lips and long lashes around crystal blue eyes. Checking his pocket watch, Nick saw that it was a quarter after two. Like clockwork, the woman with the parasol appeared as if out of thin air and walked down to the dock that was owned by the next door manor.

A man in a uniform stationed himself at the end of the dock on the path and stood silently with his hands behind his back. Every afternoon it seemed that the woman would stand there for a while just gazing at the water and it always made Nick curious. He wanted to know who she was and why she always stared down at the water. What was so entrancing about it that she'd spend nearly an hour looking at it?

He also couldn't understand why a beautiful woman like her always looked so sad too when she'd turn around and walk about up the path to the extensive gardens and the manor beyond. Despite the heat, she did show up wearing a knee length dress that looked light and soft. Three quarter length sleeves covered her most of the creamy white skin of her arms. Nick watched her with fascination for the next hour that she stood on the dock.

Ducks swam past her at one point and a maid came down from the house with bread crumbs. As a quarter after three neared, the man that had been standing at the end of the dock walked towards the woman where she stood at the railing. He said something to her and she nodded.

Nick watched as she turned back and began walking up towards the house. For brief moment, she looked towards his house like she always did and her eyes met his. Her lips upturned a little and Nick smiled back at her. As soon as her smile had appeared, it vanished and her face became a blank canvas, except her eyes. They were the only place that showed any emotions and Nick was sure he'd never seen sadder eyes than hers.

* * *

"Is that you, my darling?"

Nick smiled as he saw Daisy Buchanan lying on the couch. The moment she'd learned that he would be in New York she'd extended an invitation to have him over for dinner. Nick had accepted the invite and was looking forward to seeing both Daisy and Tom.

They were recently married and had a young daughter, Pammy, who Nick had never met.

"Simpson! Close the doors," Tom called as he entered the parlor. All the windows were open and the evening air blew all the light sheer window coverings around the room. Tom made a gesture at one of the servants and soon all the French doors were closed.

"Am I missed in Chicago?" she asked with a smile.

"At least a dozen people send their regards."

"How gorgeous."

"They're absolutely in mourning," Nick smiled as he continued. "They're all crying that they miss Daisy Buchanan."

She laughed and turned to the other woman lying on the couch next to her and shook.

"Jordan, wake up," she laughed. "Nick is here and you must meet him!"

The tall dark haired woman that Nick understood to be Jordan sat up and was instantly on her feet.

"I've been lying on that sofa for so long that I hardly remember when I laid down," Jordan said while gracefully stretching. "You live across the bay in West Egg?"

"I do," Nick nodded. "I'm renting out a house there."

"I know someone who lives over there."

"You do? I don't know a single person. Although, I do my see the woman who lives next door out in the afternoons often enough," he said with a soft smile.

"You must know Gatsby!" Jordan exclaimed. "Everyone knows Gatsby! For goodness sake, you must have seen his manor. All lit up like the city! It's a sight to see!"

"Gatsby? What Gatsby?" Daisy asked looking shocked. She quickly recovered and turned away from the group and walked over towards the footman at the door to have a quick word.

"He lives in the largest manor in all of West Egg. It has a dock and everything."

"Oh, he must be the neighbor," Nick exclaimed with realization. "There is a woman though that lives there, I believe."

"Gatsby's wife," Jordan supplied with a shrug.

"Let's have drinks before dinner!" Tom suggested with a smile as he returned from wherever he'd gone to. Gatsby was forgotten as they all moved to the dining room that had been laid out with enough food to serve a crowd of people instead of only the four of them that was present.

There was plenty of gossip as Jordan, Tom and Daisy told Nick all about New York. In turn, Nick shared his own news and gossip from Chicago. As each course passed the gossip became wilder and secrets began to pass from each person's lips as the wine flowed more and more. When Tom brought up a recent book he'd been reading about called _The Rise of the Colored Empires_ by a man named Goddard, Daisy cut in with smile.

"Tell Nicky more about…Gatsby…Jordan," she insisted before the conversation could take any more of an ugly turn.

"Mr. Gatsby is always having parties," Jordan said with a smile. "His wife, Mrs. Gatsby, is a lovely woman to be sure. Beautiful, but very quiet and I think she doesn't really care much for her husband. They don't care much for each other."

"She married Gatsby to save the family name," Tom interrupted. "She's a member of the Harper family. Their estate Nick is down the lane from us a few miles. Very wealthy family with a pedigree to match, but the younger sister was wild and nearly ruined the family. Miss Harper marrying Gatsby saved them from social ruin. Now, everyone wants a piece of the Gatsby-Harper connection. I wouldn't though. All these new money types are just filthy."

"Have you met her, Nicky?" Daisy asked with a teasing smile. "This Mrs. Gatsby? I know Jordan has."

"Have you?" Nick asked looking at Jordan in surprise.

"We've had tea few times together. Her mother is a friend of my cousin and they have tea frequently. She never stays long and whenever I'm arriving it seems like she is almost ready to leave. She is quite dedicated to her charity work,I will say that. Save the orphans or something like that," Jordan said with a wave of her hand. "It's all very noble of her. Have you met her? She lives right next to you."

Nick shook his head, "No, but I think I saw her earlier in the garden walking now that you've described her."

The phone rang and everyone froze for a moment before Tom stood up and excused himself. Daisy went flying after him and a servant closed the double doors behind them both. A muffled argument was breaking out and Nick looked at the door curiously.

"You play golf?" he asked, trying to start up a conversation.

"Shush," Jordan snapped. "I wanna hear what happens. It's probably his mistress calling again. Daisy gets so upset about it. I feel horrible for her."

"Tom has a mistress?"

"Some woman in New York. I don't know her name. Not many people know about her. I don't think the Buchanan family can suffer another scandal about Tom's affairs. People will only turn a blind eye so many times. Daisy and Tom already had to leave Chicago. I don't know where else they'd go if they were shamed here. Atlanta, Baltimore…maybe Boston. Take your pick."

Before Nick could reply, Daisy and Tom walked back in. They both looked flustered. Nick quickly excused himself, feeling uncomfortable sitting at the table with the new knowledge he had about Tom and Daisy's marriage. Tom tried to convince him to stay a little longer but Nick refused.

It was Daisy in the end who walked him out and all the way home Nick could hear her voice in his head repeating over and over that she wished Pammy was a beautiful fool.

* * *

The closer Nick came to his little cottage, the more he could see that the house next door was lit up. The large manor was stunning in its opulence and it reminded Nick of a French chateau or something out of the many pictures he'd seen of European castles. The extensive gardens were lit up as well and he could see a man walking quickly towards the dock. The woman he recognized from earlier was following at a quick pace not too far behind the man. Nick realized for the first time exactly who they were without a doubt in his mind.

Mr. and Mrs. Gatsby…

Watching them reach the quickly dock, Nick turned away feeling uncomfortable watching them together for some strange reason. He barely knew them and it seemed wrong to intrude on such a personal moment between the two of them.

Going inside and sitting down at the small desk that was in his formal living room, Nick opened the volume of finance that he'd been reading earlier in the day and told himself he'd read a little more before going off to bed.

It was only ten minutes later when he looked up at the clock again. Another marital argument was breaking out somewhere and he strongly suspected it was the Gatsby's down on the dock. It caused Nick Carraway get up and slowly he walked to his back porch listen. He couldn't hear much, but a woman's voice drifted through the evening air to the little cottage.

He looked down at the dock to see the beautiful woman from earlier standing in a gold and silver sequence dress. It was sleeveless and had a deep 'v' down her back. She gripped the railing next to the man dressed in a handsome black suit. Nick knew the man to be Mr. Gatsby, but he couldn't see Gatsby's face. The woman's face however was illuminated by the light from the dock reflecting on the water. Her dress and the diamonds she wore on her neck and ear lobes glittered.

The couple looked like they were in a heated argument, but it couldn't be denied that standing next to each other they were a handsome looking couple even without being able to see Mr. Gatsby's face. Mrs. Gatsby said something to her husband and the man turned to her quickly. He waved an angry finger in her face and whatever he said to Mrs. Gatsby quickly made her leave.

Nick wasn't sure if he'd seen tears coming from Mrs. Gatsby's face or if the reflection from her dress and diamonds were giving an illusion. It didn't matter because she quickly walked up the pathway to the gardens. She was met by a maid that she quickly passed. The girl took off after Mrs. Gatsby and Nick wondered what they had fought about.

Turning back to watch Gatsby, Nick watched him reach out towards the shining green light in the distance. A man that Nick recognized from earlier in the day as having been with Mrs. Gatsby came down the dock and whispered something in Gatsby's ear. Gatsby nodded and left with the man walking up the same path that his wife had taken minutes ago. He'd never been able to fully see Gatsby face and Nick wondered exactly who the man was.

A silence fell over the world and Nick stood wondering what he'd just witnessed.

* * *

Rebecca slammed the door shut behind her as she entered her private rooms. Gatsby never followed her into the rooms. He didn't care what happened behind the doors of her rooms and he certainly didn't care for her tears and begging. Just one Saturday where there wasn't a party was all she wanted. Just one weekend of peace in her own home and he'd flatly told her if she so desired peace than he'd be more than happy to have her leave his house and go somewhere else. He told her he'd even pack her bags for her. Tilly appeared in her rooms quickly and looked nervous.

"What?" Rebecca snapped not caring that she was being mean to the maid.

"Mr. Gatsby says he still expects you to finish dinner with him," Tilly squeaked as Rebecca quickly began yanking off her jewelry.

"Tell him that he can go and hang himself for all I care! I just won't eat tonight. Go away!"

The maid scurried away and Rebecca collapsed down on the small chair in front of her vanity. Marriage was never meant to be easy and marriage to Jay Gatsby wasn't easy or simple. Gatsby wore so many different masks in front of her that it was rare that she ever felt like she was talking to the real Gatsby.

There was the ruthless businessman Gatsby, the charming dinner host Gatsby, the silent and brooding Gatsby that ignored her. There was an angry Gatsby that appeared on few occasions, but tonight it had been a mixture of all.

Dinner had been full of one sided conversation. Her speaking and trying to start some form of communication. She'd been trying to convince her husband to not have a party on the upcoming weekend. It all had been going well until Gatsby had received a call from Philadelphia and he'd left her alone. Being left alone by Gatsby was nothing new to Rebecca. He was always leaving her alone and ignoring her.

Tonight, however, had been different. She'd gone after him demanding that he at least hear what she'd had to say before abandoning her again for the night. Gatsby had surprised her by hanging up the phone and listening to her.

She'd begged him to cancel the party that was being planned for the week, but Gatsby had refused and a fight between them had broken out. She'd followed him down to the dock, but a few words from him about what she could do if she was so unhappy had silenced her. It was the first time Gatsby had ever threatened to throw her out and a part of her was frightened by that threat. Gatsby didn't break promises and she'd learned a long time ago that he carried through on his threats.

Having lived in the manor long enough, Rebecca knew that some things Gatsby did weren't exactly legal and somehow she found everything so funny. Ironic, in the end really.

People everywhere believed Gatsby to be a gentlemen of great wealth, but they didn't realize that everything was sham to get them to let him in the door. Even she was tool he'd utilized on multiple occasions. She didn't know much about what happened with his business. Truthfully, she didn't know what he did that was illegal. She was much happier to claim ignorance about everything.

Standing up and walking to the large windows, Rebecca looked out at the bay and stared at the flashing green light. The same green light that Gatsby had stared at earlier as she'd argued about why the party should be cancelled. It was the same green light that he was always staring at and it made her wonder what was so special about the light.

Why was he always watching for it and reaching for it in the dead of night when everyone should be asleep?

Resting her head against the cool glass, Rebecca wondered briefly for a moment about Mary. The brief thought of Mary led her down a deeper, darker road. The constant thoughts of 'what-if' assaulted her mind as she wondered what life would be like if Mary hadn't fallen pregnant with an engaged man's child.

What would her life be like?

* * *

 **Monday**

 **June 23, 1922**

It was nearly a week later that Rebecca found herself walking to the house next door. The man who lived there always seemed to stare at her and it made her curious to know who he was. Walking down the path way that joined the two properties, Rebecca stopped in her tracks.

The young man was passed out on the bench on his front porch in nothing but his under garments. Pressing her red lips together, she tried to stop herself from laughing. The man truly was a sight and walking closer to the front porch of the cottage, Rebecca walked up the three stairs and sat down in the chair next to the man.

"Mr. Carraway!" she called loudly and the man sat up looking startled as he looked around frantically trying to figure out who had called his name. His eyes landed on her and they went wide in shock.

"Why don't you go inside and get dressed," Rebecca suggested training her eyes to only look at his face. "I'll have tea made."

It was a little while later that Nick returned down stairs. Rebecca was still seated outside on the front porch looking at one of the many volumes of financial encyclopedias that he'd had left lying around the house. Tea was laid out and a maid in a black and white uniform stood in the on the porch silently.

"Anna was wonderful and made tea," Rebecca announced as she reached for the silver tea pot. "How do you prefer it? One or two lumps of sugar, Mr. Carraway?"

Nick quickly sat down and picked up the pot of tea before Rebecca could. He might have been caught with his pants down by her, but he wasn't going to let a lady like Mrs. Gatsby serve herself when she was a guest in his home.

"Let me," he told her. "How much sugar?"

"One lump," she told him as she folded her hands in her lap and waited. Nick made her tea and watched as she slipped off her gloves. A large ruby engagement ring was on her ring finger as well as a silver band.

"Beautiful ring," Nick commented as he handed her the tea cup and saucer.

"My engagement ring," Rebecca smiled at him. "Mr. Gatsby knew I liked rubies and I picked the ring not even realizing it. He took me to jewelry store saying he needed help finding a watch. My youngest sister, Elizabeth, came with us and together we picked it out. I'm rather fond of it."

"It's beautiful," Nick smiled back. "It reminds me of Daisy's ring."

"Daisy?" Rebecca asked hoping that they weren't thinking of the same Daisy that lived across the bay.

"Daisy Buchanan," he explained.

"Buchanan?" she asked feeling her heart pound in her chest at the mention of Tom Buchanan's name, "Really? How do you the Buchanan family?"

"Tom's wife is my second cousin once removed. Her name is Daisy," Nick told her calmly. "Her family name is Fay."

Rebecca put her tea cup down on the glass table in front of her before her shaky hands made the cup rattle on the saucer.

"I have heard of the Fay family," she replied with a forced smile. "They're not as well-known as other families, but I do know of them just as know that the Buchanan's have lived in almost every fashionable city in the States. Do you know why they move so much?"

Nick looked down in discomfort at his tea cup for a moment before he looked back up at her, "My cousin is a free spirit. She can never be in one place for too long."

"I have sister just the same," Rebecca smiled at him sweetly soothing any ruffled feathers. "Two sisters, actually."

Nick smiled back at her, "Have you and Mr. Gatsby been married long?"

"Two years. How long will you be in West Egg?" she asked changing the subject.

"I'm not sure," Nick admitted honestly. "I've got a job in New York in the bond business. I hope I'll be a success."

Rebecca smiled at him warmly, "Mr. Carraway, the biggest broker in New York. It certainly has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Nick blushed a little at her teasing and Rebecca stood up.

"I've taken up too much of your time today already Mr. Carraway," she continued with reserve. "I do hope that everything goes well for you. I wish you all the luck in the world. My father always said playing the stock market is like gambling. I know you'll do well. Hopefully, we'll see each other soon."

Nick stood up and followed her down the three steps of his porch.

"Have a good day, Mrs. Gatsby," he told her but she stopped and turned back to look at him with an amused expression.

"Mrs. Gatsby is my mother-in-law, please call me Rebecca."

"Only if you call me Nick!"

"Have a wonderful day, Nick," Rebecca told him and she quickly turned away and walked back towards Gatsby manor with the maid, Anna, nearly jogging to keep up with her.

"You as well Rebecca," Nick whispered.

* * *

"Have you met our next door neighbor?" Gatsby asked as he leaned back in his chair watching Rebecca as she picked at her lunch.

It was rare that they ever ate any meal together besides dinner. Breakfast was always separate with Rebecca taking it in bed and Gatsby enjoying breakfast on the back porch overlooking the bay in the summertime. Lunch was almost always separate as well, but dinner was the only meal they ever ate together and more often than not, they were entertaining someone who was relevant to business.

"Which neighbor, Mr. Gatsby?" Rebecca replied as she placed her fork and knife down. "Mr. Kent? Lovely old gentleman and his daughter is quite lovely, if you wanted to know."

"The other one who is renting the cottage next door," Gatsby said sounding not at all amused as he lifted up his tea cup filled with coffee. "The one you visited this morning. That's who I want to know about."

"You had me followed? Of course, you did. Why do I even bother pretending to be shocked anymore," she said knowing full well that Gatsby tracked her comings and goings. It had long since been a source of an argument between them and recently, Rebecca had decided to give up on fighting Gatsby about it.

Nothing she did or said would stop him from doing exactly as he pleased. Gatsby had always done exactly as he pleased and rarely did he ever consult her on his plans. He wouldn't be starting any time soon and she was done arguing with him. The only reason she picked fights with him was because it was the only time actually gave her his undivided attention. It was sick, but it was to get Gatsby to notice her.

"What did you find out about him?" he asked before taking another sip of his coffee.

"Nothing worth knowing about," Rebecca told him not wanting to talk about Tom Buchanan. The snake had done enough damage and she didn't want to see him ever again. She wasn't sure she could stop herself from throwing something at him or inflicting bodily harm on the man for his behavior and cruel abuse of women.

"What did you really find out about him?" Gatsby asked again. "You're lying about knowing nothing. You never were a good liar about certain things."

"Why are you so curious to know what I know?" Rebecca asked baiting him.

If there was one thing she'd learned from Gatsby it was how to play the situation. He was always playing situations and using anything he could to his advantage. She'd seen him do it enough times and she knew that rarely did anyone ask for any favors that weren't met without something in return. If her husband wanted the information about Nick Carraway, it would cost him.

"I just am," Gatsby replied keeping his tone light and even. "What do you know?"

"I know that I will tell you what you want to know if you give me something in return," Rebecca said as she leaned forward and propped her elbow up on the table. "Is that a fair deal?"

"What do you want?" Gatsby asked as all appearance of calm left him and an annoyed expression crossed his face.

"I haven't decided, but I want at this moment is a written note from you saying I can have whatever I want, when I want it."

Jay stared at her and a smile crept up to his lips, "Crawley, old sport, go get a piece of paper and a fountain pen with fresh ink."

Within five minute, Rebecca was staring at the piece of paper in her hand and reading Jay's scrawling writing.

 _23, June 1922_

 _I, Jay Gatsby, will grant Rebecca Gatsby whatever she shall desire (within reason) in exchange for information on one next door neighbor, Mr. N. Carraway._

\- _J. G._

It was dated and signed just as she'd asked and after staring at it for a moment, Rebecca set it down on the table. Picking up her tea cup, she stared at him hard as she raised the cup to her lips.

"What would you like to know about Mr. Carraway?" she asked after swallowing and putting the tea cup back down.

"Everything you know," Jay told her looking mildly annoyed. "Don't leave any details out."

Rebecca stared at him for a moment trying to figure out why Jay was so interested in Nick. Nothing came to mind and it made Rebecca even more curious. Rarely was Jay interested in something that didn't have a purpose. So, what was Mr. Carraway's purpose?

"He's here to join the bond business and he isn't sure how long he's staying in West Egg," she finally said after a few seconds. "He had a very wild night last night. I found him in his undergarments passed out on his porch. He claims my engagement ring reminds him of Daisy Buchanan's and-"

"Daisy Buchanan?" Gatsby said as he sat up in his chair, "How does Mr. Carraway know Mrs. Buchanan?"

"They're second cousins or something like that," Rebecca said feeling confused as she waved her hand. "What's so special about Daisy Buchanan, anyway? In fact, what's so special about any Buchanan?"

Jay didn't say anything, but stood up and tossed his linen napkin down on the table.

"Gatsby?" she called as she watched feeling extremely confused as Jay walked away from her. She knew the look on his face. He was planning something, but she didn't know what he was planning and why. Sighing, Rebecca picked up her knife and fork and continued eating lunch wondering if the rare event of Gatsby joining her for lunch would ever happen again.

She didn't bother trying to bargain with anyone about getting Gatsby to sit through an entire meal. The phone was always ringing and never had she seen Gatsby turn down a business call.

The day he did, Rebecca was sure the sky would be falling.

* * *

 **Thursday**

 **June 26, 1922**

Gatsby didn't bring up Nick again until a few days later. It was after dinner on Thursday evening when he did find her in the music room alone. It wasn't unusual for them to have a silent dinner than separate.

Gatsby always went to the library or his study while she often retreated to the music room or retired to bed early. The day had been like any other day for Rebecca.

She'd woken up and had gone about her morning routine. At eleven, she'd gone to New York City to meet several women from society for a luncheon and had spent the afternoon in various engagements. She'd returned back to Gatsby Manor around four o'clock and had gone for her daily walk in the gardens and down to the dock.

At five o'clock, Crawley had informed her that Tilly was waiting for her to dress her for dinner and Rebecca had gone to change wondering why she even bothered. Gatsby never gave her a compliment about how she looked or her clothing. In the beginning of their marriage, she had always tried to look her best for Gatsby. She had taken great pains to try and impress him, but now she didn't care if she impressed him or if he thought she looked pretty.

It didn't matter anymore.

Rebecca was sitting at the piano playing when he came in. His presence had startled her so much that she fudged a note and a horribly off tune sound came from the piano. Her fingers stilled on the keys and she looked at him with a weary expression on her face. She sat trying to figure out why Gatsby was there in the room with her.

"Don't stop on my account," he said as he sat down in one of the many comfortable chairs. "Continue."

Rebecca's fingers were frozen over the keys as Gatsby sat back in the chair and crossed his legs. She was desperately trying to figure out why he was even in the same room as her. He'd made it so clear to her at the beginning of their marriage that he wanted nothing to do with her. The only time he spent with her was minimal and it was only when others were present.

To see him sitting now in the music room staring at her was unnerving and she wasn't quite sure if she should continue playing or demand to know why he was there. Before she could say anything, Gatsby spoke up again.

"Tomorrow, you're going to invite Mr. Carraway to a party," he said as Rebecca removed her gloved fingers from the ivory keys of the piano and arched an eyebrow at him. She almost felt offended that he was only interested in talking about Mr. Carraway.

"Why are you so interested in Mr. Carraway?" she demanded. "What about him fascinates you? He's a nice man to be sure, but beyond that there's nothing that would interest you."

"There are plenty of people that don't interest me," he told her and Rebecca tried not to flinch at his words. "There are plenty of people who do interest me. Mr. Carraway interests me. That's why I want you to invite him."

Gatsby stood up and walked to her. He pulled a sealed envelope out of his breast pocket and set it down on top of the polished piano.

"Invite Mr. Carraway," he said softly. "That's all I want. Have one of the servants do it if you find it challenging, but invite him."

Rebecca looked at the envelope and picked it up. She knew that it was an invitation, but it felt so heavy between her fingers. She looked up to tell Gatsby that she didn't want him getting Mr. Carraway into any kind of trouble, but the room was empty and she was alone again. Even after two years, disappointment flooded her chest and she pushed it down quickly reminding herself that Gatsby leaving her without a goodbye or anything was normal. He didn't care and neither should she.

Letting her heart get involved would only led to pain and an end like Mary's. She refused to live her life pinning for a man like her younger sister had. Gatsby wasn't worth the pain. Standing up, Rebecca closed the piano and left the room to retire early.

She had many engagements the next day and Nick would have to be the first person she visited with the invitation.

* * *

 **Friday**

 **June 27, 1922**

Rebecca was surprised to see Nick sitting outside his cottage as the Rolls-Royce pulled up to park in front. Brighton raced around the car and opened the door as Rebecca took a breath in and poised herself to be as charming and happy as she could be. Nick truly was nice man and she didn't want her already rough day to ruin his. She hoped that he could be a friend and she didn't want to ruin any chances of that friendship.

"Rebecca," Nick called joyfully seeing her. "I didn't know you were stopping by so soon again. We only saw each other a few days ago."

"Nor did I," she smiled as Brighton helped her out of the car and down onto the stone path. "I apologize for coming so early though."

"Nonsense don't be sorry!" he smiled back. "Would you like a cup of tea? Please, sit down and join me."

"I'm afraid I can't stay long," Rebecca said as she walked up the path to his covered porch where he was sitting with breakfast and tea. "I have tea with my own mother and sister soon in East Egg this morning."

"And this afternoon?" Nick asked hopefully as Rebecca sat down on the white wicker chair that was the twin of his own. A glass table was between them and had a silver tray set out with tea and toast.

"I'm attending a fundraising event over for several charities I support," she told him sadly. "Truthfully, an afternoon with you and a tea pot sounds far better. Life, however, is full of things we don't want to do, is it not?"

Nick smiled understandingly, "I feel the same way. Mr. Gatsby is well, I presume?"

The smile stayed on her face despite the feelings that washed over her. Rebecca hadn't even thought about Jay until Nick had brought the man up and what was left of her good mood felt like it was crashing quickly. She hadn't spoken to him since last night. Even on the walking out of the house this morning when she'd passed him on the way to their respective cars he's ignored her. Gatsby had quickly gotten in his yellow custom car and had driven off as she'd been handed into her car by Brighton.

Gatsby's car had disappeared around the bend of the drive before Brighton even had that car running. Rebecca had tried to squash her unhappiness at Gatsby's silence, but the silence between them was like a canyon and she didn't even know how to describe how it made her feel.

She was desperate for some kind of affection and attention. Rebecca mused to herself that maybe that's why she wanted Mr. Carraway to stay away and yet stay close by. She was conflicted over a man like him because Nick was a handsome, unattached young man. She'd only met him once before, but she liked him. He made her feel alive inside and he brought a smile to her face that was genuine.

Neither thing she felt when around Gatsby.

When she was around Gatsby it was like she was empty inside and suffocating on the silence between them. She wanted Gatsby to smile at her and tell she was beautiful like she'd other husbands do to their wives. She couldn't remember a time when Gatsby had ever told her she looked beautiful. He'd told her that she was pretty when they'd been engaged but that had simply been because he was trying to marry her. Nick voice brought her out of her thoughts and she looked at him confused.

"I'm so sorry!" she said quietly. "Repeat that again. I wasn't attending you."

Nick smiled, "A lot on your mind?"

"Nothing of great importance but yes, I do have quite a bit on my mind," Rebecca smiled back."Now, tell me again what you said and I promise to listen."

"I asked you why you're here so early."

Her smile nearly fell again but Rebecca refused to let it, "An invitation."

Opening up her small clutch, Rebecca took out the envelope that Jay had given her the night before and extended her gloved hand to Nick with it.

"Mr. Gatsby and I would be honor if you would join us for a party this weekend," she said with the smile never leaving her face.

"Thank you," Nick replied. "I'd love to!"

"Good," Rebecca told him as she stood up quickly. "I'm afraid I have to go, Mr. Carraway. I have quite a bit to do today but I hope you have a wonderful day."

Brighton opened the door to the car again and Rebecca quickly descended the steps from Nick's cottage to the stone path that went to his drive.

"You promised to call me Nick!" he reminded her.

Turning back to look over her shoulder at him, Rebecca smiled.

"Have a wonderful day, Nick."

"You too, Rebecca," he grinned back.

Brighton coughed discretely and Rebecca glared at him as he helped her into the car. She didn't care what her driver thought. He wasn't paid to think. He was paid to take her where she needed to go and any other miscellaneous tasks he was appointed to by the housekeeper.

"To Harper House in East Egg," she told him coldly. "Drive."

The car moved and Rebecca looked out the window watching Nick's little cottage disappeared into the tress. Nick returned back to his breakfast and Rebecca found herself wanting to desperately join him. It didn't matter that they had parties every weekend.

She didn't care for the people who attended and she didn't befriend them. They were only there because of superficial reasons not to mention the free food and booze. Nick, however, seemed so sincere and she wanted to spend more time with him.

He offered up a cure for her loneliness.


	3. II: Bang, Bang

**Part II: Bang, Bang**

 _"...Bang, Bang_

 _Got him with a bang_

 _Love him down, down_

 _I shot my baby with a bang, bang_

 _Got him with a bang..."_

~ "Bang Bang" - william

 **Saturday**

 **June 28, 1922**

Rebecca gently applied the red lipstick to her lips. From her seat at the vanity, she could hear the band down in the gardens tuning their instruments. She knew that it was close to the start of the party. People would come invading the house and gardens. All for the sake of free food and the chance to meet Jay Gatsby.

Some people, however, truly had no boundaries and Rebecca always made Crawley lock up certain rooms in the house that were not open to the public, including bedrooms and the studies. The men that Jay employed guarded specific rooms that Rebecca knew were used for business. One look from those men and people went scrambling in the other direction. Not that she blamed them anyways, even those men made her nervous.

Everyone from New York society came to Gatsby's parties and it should have unnerved her, but it didn't for the most part. There were plenty of other armed men that walked around to make sure that order was kept, but the sheer volume of people that came never ceased to amaze her. It made a small part of her grateful for the guards that Gatsby employed, even if they did scare her.

Standing up and walking to the large windows, Rebecca pulled back the sheer curtain and looked down to the drive and saw many automobiles in all different colors pulled up.

People glittering in all kinds of colors and jewels stepped out of the automobiles and Rebecca knew that half these people had never met her or Gatsby.

They only came for the party.

She didn't really care for the party or the people, but she was always at a loss as to why Gatsby had parties every weekend. For two straight years, all they'd had was parties every weekend without fail and never once had he given her a reason as to why. Sometimes, she yearned for a quiet evening, but the curiosity of why Jay Gatsby threw such lavish parties always won out. She always stayed trying to figure out what it was about Jay Gatsby that intrigued so many people.

Tilly came over carrying a pair of delicate shoes and set them down in front of her, "Ready, ma'am?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Rebecca whispered as she let the curtain fall.

* * *

Nick was in awe.

He was looking for Mr. Gatsby or Rebecca, but there were so many people that he felt like he was lost in a seemingly endless wave of people. Despite that, everything around him amazed him. Everyone was there from everywhere it seemed like. Dancers and acrobats entertained. A half crazed man played on the organ in the ballroom as people everywhere drank and ate till they had their fill. Music was everywhere it seemed and the sheer volume of the noise and people surprised Nick as he looked around for his host and hostess.

"I'm looking for Mr. Gatsby!" Nick half yelled to a waiter who was handing out champagne. "Have you seen him?! I live just next door! Mrs. Gatsby gave me an invitation."

"Mr. Gatsby? Nobody has met either Mr. or Mrs. Gatsby!" the waiter said and Nick knew that he'd been trained to say that. "Champagne?"

Turning and taking in the scene, Nick was still overwhelmed. Everyone was there from billionaire playboys, blonde nurses, and heiresses comparing inheritances. He was even surprised to see his boss, Walter Chase, losing money in a grand room that had at least a dozen tables set up for roulette, poker and all kinds of gaming.

Gossip columnists were alongside gangsters and politicians as they all exchanged telephone numbers. Film stars were there as well as directors from Broadway. Everyone was there from all walks of life and they all had the money to be there.

Picking up a martini glass, Nick did the only thing he could…drink. Glass after glass he tipped back until he heard a familiar voice.

"I thought I might find you here. You live next door, don't you? I remember you saying something to Daisy about living in West Egg."

Nick turned to see Jordan looking at him with an amused look.

"Hello!" he smiled. "This is amazing."

Jordan grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the dance floor.

"Did you get an invitation?" he continued as he willing followed her.

"People aren't invited," Jordan laughed. "They just come."

"Mrs. Gatsby hand delivered this to me," Nick told her taking out his invitation and showed Jordan. "Seems I was the only one invited. Who is Gatsby?"

"He was a German spy during the war," a handsome looking man said as he came walking over with a glass of champagne for Jordan.

"Teddy Barton, this is Nick Carraway," Jordan introduced before taking out a cigarette. "And as for who is Gatsby? There are plenty of rumors. Some say he's a businessman."

"No, no, no," Another man said approaching their group. "He's the Kaiser's assassin."

"I heard he killed a man once," a woman said as she passed them.

"True!" Another man chimed in from somewhere in the background.

"Kills for fun actually! Free too!" A second man added.

"Well, one thing is for sure. He's richer than God," Teddy Barton said as he settled into a table as he looked at a friend of his. "All that money and this is what he chooses to do with it!"

Jordan smiled as she grabbed Nick's arm, "Come on! Let's go find him!"

* * *

Rebecca watched as Jordan Baker pulled Nick up the grand staircase and down the hall towards the doors of the library. It was a room she seldom went into preferring to simply have Tilly select a book and bring it to her. Jay didn't like her being in there and she stayed far away.

An angry Gatsby was something she'd rarely seen and she didn't want to see him often. She'd overheard the group gossiping about Jay and as amusing as it was, it also reminded Rebecca that she truly knew very little about her husband. He told her bits and pieces that he wanted her to know about him when they had been engaged, but nothing more. It was frustrating, but she refused to ask anyone about him. She wasn't going to stir the gossip around them anymore by admitting she didn't know much about her husband. Crawley walked up to her holding a silver tray with a single glass of champagne on it.

"It's always boring," Rebecca told him with a small smile as she picked up the glass. "But what is so interesting about Carraway to him, Crawley? I can't quite figure it out."

"I couldn't answer that, ma'am," Crawley replied as he followed her up the stairs to the second floor. Stepping out onto the balcony that was empty, Rebecca rested her hands against the stone railing and looked down at the intense party below.

Confetti was falling and the band was playing on and on as the never ending dancers continued to dance, laugh and have a good time. All were ignorant of what really happened behind the grand doors of Gatsby Manor.

Spotting Nick stepping outside again with Jordan Baker, Rebecca was amused to see Teddy Barton stalk away angrily after seeing Nick at Jordan's side. She stood there watching them silently for almost an hour with Crawley and Tilly faithfully near her side. They both stood at the French doors that opened to the balcony and turned away guests that had tried to join her.

She watched on, letting herself slip into the fantasy that she was one of them below. Partying freely and not having a care in the world. She wasn't married to a man she hardly knew and she hadn't fooled herself into loving him. Mary was still with her and Elizabeth was as darling as ever. Everything was perfect and watching the glittering colors, Rebecca almost convinced herself it was true.

Barton finally stole away Jordan Baker from Nick and Rebecca picked up her near empty champagne flute. It was now or never and she had to speak to him before he slipped away again. Maybe she could convince him to dance with her. She'd longed for a dance or two. She hadn't danced in a very long time.

Gatsby abandoned her at the party and seldom did any man notice her or ask her to dance. The last time she could clearly remember dancing had been at her wedding and it hadn't even been with Gatsby. No one here interested her except for Nick. There was just something about him that she like and drew her to him.

Quickly leaving, Rebecca managed to reach the outside just in time to see Gatsby approaching Nick. She stood at the top of the twin staircases with several of Gatsby's men standing around the veranda as they created a perimeter so that guests couldn't get to the landing from the steps.

"Your face is familiar. Weren't you in the third division during the war?" Gatsby said and Nick looked up startled.

"Uh yes, the ninth battalion," Nick answered accepting the glass of champagne that Gatsby offered. Nick didn't even notice that she was standing at the top of the steps waiting for them both. His eyes were too busy being fixed on the back of Jordan Baker as she was being dragged away by Teddy Barton. Rebecca was sure that Teddy Barton was the whiny, snobbish son of a rich banker that her mother had an affair with at some point.

"I was in the seventh," Gatsby said and Rebecca cocked her head to the side as she watched Nick follow Gatsby up the steps like a puppy dog. Rarely did she ever hear about Gatsby speak about the war and when he did it always intrigued her to no end.

"I knew you looked familiar. Having a good time, old sport?"

Rebecca turned grasped the iron railing in front of her. She wanted to hear exactly what Gatsby was going to say as she turned to look at him. Gatsby's blue eyes met her briefly and he ignored her as Nick followed him up the steps.

"The whole thing is incredible. I live just next door. He sent me an actual invitation," Nick gushed and produced the said invitation. "Well, actually his wife delivered the invitation. It seems I'm the only one who has one. I still haven't met Mr. Gatsby. I've met his wife, I like said, when she gave me the invitation. No one's met either of them and I can't find them at this party. Everyone says they've never met the Gatsby's before. I will say that I've heard all kinds of rumors about Mr. Gatsby. They say he's third cousin to the Keizer and second cousin to the devil."

Rebecca grasped the railing tighter as Jay came to stand next to her. His scent was intoxicating and it was the closest that Gatsby had come to be next to her in a long time. She could feel the fabric of his suit jacket on her bare arm. It gave her goose bumps and made her heart pound in her chest. Nick turned to clasped Gatsby on the shoulder. Her husband quickly reached in front of her quickly and grabbed a glass of champagne from the tray that had materialized along with Crawley.

"I'm afraid I haven't been a very good host, old sport, and neither has dear Rebecca. You see, I'm Gatsby," Jay said with one of his rare smiles as he held the champagne flute and turned to look at Nick. She didn't turn around when Gatsby introduced himself. Instead, she looked at Crawley and the second glass on the silver tray. Crawley opened his suit coat a little and she spotted a silver flask. Crawley winked at her as she picked up the champagne flute.

She drowned it quickly as she watched the fireworks go off over the bay. The colors were rich blues, greens, reds and it was stunning to watch. Music continued to play and she watched the people as Gatsby continued to speak.

"Sorry, old sport, I thought you knew. I thought dear Rebecca would have found you and told you."

Hearing her name, Rebecca turned and looked at Gatsby, "I found Mr. Carraway when you did, dear."

The word 'dear' felt like acid on her lips, but Gatsby smiled at her and took her glass. He placed it with his own champagne glass on a passing tray and sent her a look. Rebecca could see a warning in his blue eyes.

"Please just…" Nick started looking embarrassed. "I don't know what to say. Please, forgive me."

"It's fine," Gatsby smiled as he clasped Nick on shoulder, "You remember my dear wife, Rebecca? You've met before."

Rebecca wanted to gag at being called his 'dear wife'. It was all a part of an act to show the world how much of a supposedly happy couple they were when in truth, they were both apart of an emptiness that expanded past anything she had ever experienced.

"I do apologize Nick for not find you earlier," Rebecca said with a false smile as she turned to look at him. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Crawley, who had slipped away unnoticed returned wearing a look Rebecca, knew well. Business was calling.

"Yes?" Gatsby asked as Rebecca watched Crawley lean into Gatsby to whisper.

"Mr. Gatsby, sir," he said quietly. "Chicago on the wire."

"I'll be in just a moment," Gatsby told him quietly before turning back to look at Nick. "I'm taking my new hydroplane out in the morning. Would you like to go with me?"

Gatsby began to walk with Nick and Rebecca quickly followed. Gatsby's silent dismissal of her had been clear, but she wanted to stay with Nick and enjoy the party with him. He brought a thrill to her shallow life that she enjoyed.

"What time?" Nick asked as the crowd parted ways for them thanks to the men dressed in suits that looked menacing.

"The time that suits you," Gatsby smiled as they reached the top of the steps. He kissed Miss Baker's hand in a way that made jealously surge through Rebecca's veins, but she quickly reined herself in. Gatsby excused himself and Crawley fetched Jordan as the grand closing of the fireworks started to go off.

"You never did answer my question," Rebecca said with a smile as she stood on the steps looking at Nick. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Nick simply smiled as the music continued to play and the fireworks went off. As soon as the fireworks were finished people went clamoring back to the dance floor and Rebecca felt herself being pulled to the dance floor by Nick. She smiled even more and the moment their feet hit the floor they were dancing and they didn't stop until the party was nearly over and people were leaving.

At some point, Nick slipped away from her and Rebecca found herself looking for him again. She was nearly knocked over by Jordan Baker who was once again being dragged away by Teddy Barton for what was probably the fourth time that evening.

"Nick! I've just heard the most shocking thing! It all makes sense!" Jordan proclaimed loudly as Crawley, who had caught her before she could fall, helped Rebecca to stand upright.

"What makes sense?" Nick shouted as Rebecca followed them curious to know what Jordan was talking about.

"Everything!" Jordan told him as Rebecca grabbed the railing and listened. A familiar scent of cologne reached her and she knew that Gatsby was behind her. His hands were probably behind his back as he watched the scene unfold. Rebecca missed whatever Jordan said next. Her senses were on overload and she wondered if there was something wrong with her.

Every time Gatsby was close to her, she felt warmth fill her body and she desperately tried to push all of it away. Her mother's voice in her head screamed at her to forget the feelings. It didn't matter and Rebecca had promised herself that she wouldn't love Gatsby.

She'd promised herself years ago that she would lock away all the feelings he'd made her experience as a woman. Yet, every time he touched her or was near her, that resolved weakened and the horrible truth that she still did have feelings for the man awoke inside her. It scared her and she wanted to run far away from him, but her legs wouldn't work. The car that Jordan Baker was in drove off and Nick turned back looking disappointed.

"I'm sorry that I stole her away for the evening, old sport," Gatsby said as he moved to stand beside her. "I hope that my own wife was a satisfactory replacement for your evening."

Rebecca turned to look at Gatsby with annoyed look and tight smile. "Nick was a darling. We had such a wonderful time dancing. Didn't we, Nick?"

Nick nodded back at Rebecca with a sweet smile, "We did indeed have a wonderful time. Your wife is a wonderful woman, Mr. Gatsby. A fabulous dancer, by the way."

"Don't forget we're going up in that hydroplane tomorrow morning, old sport," Gatsby said as Crawley came back wearing a blank expression.

"Mr. Gatsby, sir. Philadelphia on the phone," he said in a low tone.

Gatsby nodded and smiled at Nick, "Good night, old sport."

Rebecca watched as Gatsby left without a word to her and looked back at Nick, trying to hide any pain that Gatsby had just caused.

"Good night, Nick. I hope you had a wonderful time," she said quietly.

"Good night to you as well, Rebecca," Nick smiled seemingly unaware of her internal pain, "I did have a wonderful time."

Rebecca gave him one last smile as Crawley came back to stand guard next to her. They both looked up when a car flipped over and an old man with owl eyes popped up looking over the car. Jordan Baker stood up in a car and waved Nick down.

"Nick! Come visit me! We'll have tea! Look me up! I'm in the phone book!"

Nick's attention immediately turned back to Jordan and he waved with a smile. Jealously flared inside of Rebecca but she quickly killed it again. She had no right to be jealous.

Nick wasn't hers.

"I'll call you up!" Nick yelled to Jordan with a final wave.

He looked satisfied and Rebecca turned away to look at Crawley, "Send Tilly to draw up a bath. A nice hot one, Crawley."

"Yes, Mrs. Gatsby," he said in his deep raspy voice, "I will."

The evening hadn't been a complete loss and Rebecca smiled a little hoping that Nick would come to next weekend's party. She wouldn't mind dancing with him again. He was a good dancer and she dearly loved to dance.

* * *

 **Sunday**

 **June 29, 1922**

Rebecca sat in the beach chair nervously watching both Nick and Jay in the hydroplane. Something about it made her uncomfortable. Gatsby said something as they pulled up to the dock and Nick laughed. It was so rare that they had people over for personal reasons that to see Nick there and know that he was attending lunch with them made her heart flutter with excitement.

She'd always liked entertaining, but Gatsby definition of entertaining and hers weren't exactly the same. Crawley was standing ever so faithfully near her with Tilly. They so rarely left her side that sometimes Rebecca completely forgot they were there. A footman came down and whispered something in Crawley's ear and she watched Crawley nod.

"What is it?" Rebecca asked him curiously. "Is another city calling on the wire? God only knows how popular we are."

"It's not the wire, Mrs. Gatsby," Crawley said in his deep voice. "Lunch is ready to be served when you deem fit on the veranda."

It was almost shocking to know that lunch was ready and a city wasn't calling instead. It always seemed that Gatsby was being taken away by some sort of phone call. Settling back into her comfortable seat, Rebecca twirled the lace parasol she always used to shade her from the sunlight between her fingers as she watched Nick and Gatsby step onto the dock. She turned to look at Tilly. Crawley whispered something to Tilly that sent the girl racing away.

"She's gone to get refreshments for everyone, Mrs. Gatsby. Lemonade if that's alright," Crawley said again.

Rebecca nodded in agreement and looked back towards the dock to see that the men were walking towards them. The invisible mask of pretending to be a happy wife slipped back on with ease. They had an act to preform as much as Rebecca hated it. She didn't want anyone, especially Nick, knowing how truly unhappy she was with Gatsby.

Only Tilly and Crawley saw her personal struggles and she felt like that was two people too many that had seen her misery.

* * *

"We'd better go check on, dear Rebecca. Make sure her heart is still beating, old sport," Gatsby said. "She is not into new inventions like I am. I think she's afraid one of them will kill me soon."

Nick smiled, "No woman wants to think of herself with no income. Women as young as your wife especially don't want to think about being widows."

Gatsby chuckled, "The stock market could crash next week or something could kill me and yet, she'd have no worry in the world about money. I've invested well and very little of it is in stock, old sport. There is other business out there besides bonds and banking, but those are by far the most respectable."

Nick smiled as they walked up the dock to where Rebecca was lounging in the beach chair wearing a light pink muslin dress. Her arms were bare to the sun and the dress ended just below her knees.

"Did you both enjoy yourselves?" she asked with a smile as she stood up. "You both looked like you were having a marvelous time."

"It was wonderful," Nick said with a smile.

"Good! Tilly's gone to get you both some lemonade and lunch is ready whenever you're ready to eat," Rebecca grinned at Nick as Gatsby moved away to have a hushed conversation with Crawley. She tried to ignore the feeling that they were talking about the wire and other cities. Gatsby turned around after a few moments and smiled.

"We'll have lunch and then I'll tell you the surprise I have for both of you," he smiled.

Rebecca looked at him as she struggled to hide her shock at the idea of Gatsby surprising them with anything. Rarely did she ever get anything from him. Maybe a trinket here and there on her birthday or a gift for Christmas, but they were rarely things she even liked or would use. A silver pen set and a pink diamond bracelet was what she'd gotten for her last birthday in April. She'd loved them both, but Tilly had let slip that Gatsby had let Crawley pick out the gifts for her.

Rebecca had been crushed to learn that the butler, not her husband, had chosen her birthday presents. The gifts had been locked away in the safe that was kept in Gatsby's office ever since then. She'd placed the items in late one night when Gatsby had been on the wire in the library. If he knew they were in the safe, he didn't say anything about it. She didn't think he cared too much about it anyways. His silence always spoke volumes.

Gatsby clasped Nick on the shoulder and they began walking towards the house. They were already deep in conversation by the time they reached the clothed table that had been set up for an outdoor lunch. It went exactly how Rebecca knew it would go. Jay and Nick spoke about all kinds of subjects from baseball to stocks to traveling. Listening to Jay wow Nick with stories of his travels made Rebecca realize how much she'd yearned for the supposed honeymoon Gatsby had tantalized her with during their engagement. He'd promised to take her to London and Paris. He'd show her everything she'd want to see and buy her anything she wanted or needed to have.

Cold reality had hit a few weeks into their marriage that his whole plan of a honeymoon had been a mirage. Something he'd used to reel her in like a fish to a worm on a hook. She'd stupidly fallen for it and it had taken a while, but Rebecca had resigned herself to the fact that everything Gatsby had promised wasn't going come true. He was a fairy tale in the end. Like in all stories, the part that came after the 'Happily Ever After' was omitted and revealed only when it was too late for her to change her mind.

Sitting back in her chair and watching them, Rebecca was keenly aware of how out of place she felt. Jay and Nick were siting and enjoying themselves. Right when Rebecca thought that she couldn't bear to be left out anymore, Crawley materialized.

"What it is Crawley?" Gatsby asked as Rebecca looked over her shoulder at the older butler.

"There's a call for Mrs. Gatsby," Crawley answered.

"Who is it?" Rebecca asked trying to keep her voice steady and hide her excitement. She liked to get phone calls, but Gatsby was always pressing her about keeping the wire open. More often than not, many women in New York still sent her the old style letters and hand invitations to let her know when she was supposed to come and visit them or attend a function. It was rare that she was phoned, but it felt like a small treat to brighten her day when it did happen.

"Miss Elizabeth Harper is calling," Crawley stated. "She's wishing to know if you'd like to accompany her on a shopping expedition tomorrow, Mrs. Gatsby."

The thought of Elizabeth brought a large smile to Rebecca's face. She always felt better after going shopping with Elizabeth, no matter what the problem was. Elizabeth had a rare gift that she could make anyone smile regardless of the situation. It was joy and Rebecca dearly wished she could have Elizabeth's innocent view of the world again. She'd never revealed the details of her marriage to her sister.

Instead, Rebecca let Elizabeth think the world of her brother-in-law. Gatsby truly doted on Elizabeth like a she was his own little sister and more often than not, it left Rebecca feeling jealous. Like always, she tried to push those feelings down and lock them away. Elizabeth's love for Gatsby was truly that of what a sister felt for her brother. Despite everything that had happened to her, Elizabeth was one of the few people that Rebecca could truly claim she loved. The other person being Mary, who was now long lost to her. She quickly turned to look at the gentlemen her smile lessening only a little.

"Excuse me," she told them as she quickly stood up and dropped her linen napkin on the table. "I'll be back soon."

Gatsby said something about not talking to long on the wire, but Rebecca ignored him. She didn't care about his little wire. She didn't give a fig if someone from his business called. They could call back later. She had a chance to talk to Elizabeth and arrange a shopping day for tomorrow. She wasn't going to let Gatsby ruin her joy. Trying to walk at a reasonable speed down the hallways to the library where the phone was, Rebecca nearly yanked the phone out of the poor foot man's hand that was holding it as he waited for her. Sinking down into the chair next to the small circular table where the phone normally sat, Rebecca held it to her ear with a smile that never left her face during the whole conversation.

* * *

It had shocked her when she'd looked up to see Gatsby looking down at her as she spoke to Elizabeth. Glancing at the clock, Rebecca was even more shocked to see that nearly a half an hour had passed since Crawley had come to get her. Quickly saying goodbye to her sister, Rebecca ended the call.

"How's your sister?" Gatsby asked as he sat down in the seat across from her. He crossed his legs like always and stared at her with a blank expression that unnerved Rebecca. It was almost impossible to tell what he was think sometimes and she was never quite sure how to answer his questions about family.

"She's well," she finally said after a few seconds of pause. "She and I are going to go shopping in New York tomorrow. I be won't here for most of the day."

"I'm sure you'll both enjoy seeing each other," he replied as she stood up and smoothed the crinkles out of her muslin dress.

"Of course," Rebecca told him as he also stood up, "I dearly love seeing Elizabeth and we're both so busy that sometimes I feel as though I've gone a very long time without talking to her."

"You practically write notes to each other every day," Gatsby said smoothly. "I would hardly call that a very long time."

"To me it is," she defended. "She's the only sister I have left. Forgive me if I want to cling as tightly to her as possible."

"Ah…we wouldn't want another Mary in the family, would we?"

Rebecca's shoulders went ridged at Gatsby cool mention of Mary Harper. Neither her parents nor Elizabeth spoke openly about the middle daughter in the Harper family, but Mary's ghost never quite left them. Her absence was like an ache that never fully went away and Gatsby was right that she clung tightly to Elizabeth. Truthfully, she didn't want her darling sister making the same ignorant mistakes that both she and Mary had made. Rebecca wanted a different life for Mary and she was determined not to see Elizabeth seduced by a womanizing bastard or trapped in a loveless marriage.

"Elizabeth and Mary are nothing alike," she told him coolly.

"You're correct," Gatsby conceded. "Nick went home, by the way. He had business to attend to."

"Reading all those books on finance?"

"Something like that, I believe. I did invite him though to go with us to see the New York City Orchestra's performance of Holst's The Planets tomorrow night. Try not to exhaust yourself tomorrow with all that shopping," Gatsby told her as he picked up the phone and poised a finger ready to dial whatever city he needed to speak with.

Rebecca stared at him for a moment not quite sure she had heard right. Had Gatsby said that they were going to a musical performance? He hadn't taken her to a performance since he'd married her. Anything she wanted to go see resulted in her sitting on her own in their box as people gossiped around her trying to come up with reasons as to why such a pretty bride like her was all alone.

"Holst?" she questioned looking at him confused. "We're going to go see Holst's Planets?"

"The Times said it was well performed," Gatsby said still holding the phone. "If you don't like it, you don't have to accompany us. You're more than free to do whatever you wish."

Rebecca couldn't stop herself as practically threw herself at Gatsby. He barely caught her as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and pressed several kisses to his smooth cheek. Only later would she think of the incident as the closest physical contact she'd had with her husband in years but in that moment all Rebecca could think about was how excited she was that he'd be going with them to the show. She was so excited to be going with him.

"Oh, thank you!" she gushed as she let go of Gatsby. He looked like a cat that had been dropped in water, but she didn't care. She was too happy to care. Tomorrow would be so wonderful that she felt like nothing in that moment could steal the rare little piece of happiness she felt.

"Yes, well," Gatsby said smoothing back the hair that had been messed up from her nearly knocking him over. "I'm sure you have plenty of things to do for tomorrow."

He slammed the phone down and Rebecca didn't care that he'd left the library. She was suddenly aware of what it felt like to touch her lips to his smooth, warm cheek. A familiar tingle started low in her abdomen and traveled over her body. Her body burned from where Gatsby's hands had touched her hips. Her heart pounded in her chest as her actions were replayed over and over again in her mind. Touching him woke something in her she didn't fully understand and the feeling of his body against her left her whole body hot.

Her nipples ached from where they'd pressed against his strong chest. Rebecca wasn't sure what she wanted or needed but her whole body ached for something more. It was like it knew what it wanted better than she did.

It scared her and thrilled her at the same time. Whatever was happening to her from being close to Gatsby and kissing him was new and different. It wasn't the same tingle she felt from looking at Nick. No, these feelings were far stronger than anything she'd ever experienced with anyone. She briefly remembered her mother telling her about a marriage bed and Rebecca wondered if these feelings were a part of that. Whatever she was feeling, it felt deliciously good and akin to slow torture.

Reality came crashing down and it forced her to sit down from the sheer shock of what happened between her and Gatsby, the feelings that Gatsby had stirred in her died down and left her in horror. She'd let herself slip from behind the wall she'd built up. She promised herself she'd never do what she did again. The feelings he brought to her body and mind weren't safe to dwell on and it would be far better if she locked them away along with everything that happened between them. Resting her head back, Rebecca looked up at the ceiling and acknowledged that there was one thing Gatsby was good at.

Torture.

He was a master of slow torture and he tortured her every day. He put feelings in her heart and in her head. Feelings that she could never act on and Rebecca knew that those feelings would slowly kill her.

Just like they had slowly killed Mary until nothing was left but misery and heartbreak.

* * *

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	4. III: Where The Wind Blows

**Part III: Where the Wind Blows**

 _"...I just want to have a good time_

 _Can't I have fun for the rest of my life_

 _Just go where the wind blows_

 _Here he comes, yeah he caught my eye_

 _And we made love to the moonlight_

 _Just go where the wind blows..."_

"Where The Wind Blows" - Coco O.

 **Monday**

 **June 30, 1922**

Rebecca sat still on the plush stool in front of her vanity the next morning as she read the letter from a local priest where Mary had lived. It was the second message from the man. The first letter that had come had informed her that Mary had hung herself just before New Year's Eve. Rebecca could remember that day well. The letter had come on a Friday and she'd walked around the party that evening feeling numb.

Mary's death had been long coming, but it was still a shock. The few letters that Mary had written to her over the years was laced with self-hatred, depression and humiliation. The tragedy was that despite everything, Mary still claimed to love Tom Buchanan. Rebecca had never found the words to put to paper revealing the truth to Mary that Tom had married. Shortly after the beginning of last fall, Mary had discovered from a friend in the city that she still kept in contact with that Tom had married and he had a daughter. The news had been devastating to her and ate away at her will to live.

Finally, Mary had ended her pain and had hung herself from the rafters of the attic in the house that she rented from the local priest. Father John Douglas had taken her young son under his wing and had written to Rebecca citing that he'd discovered her address among Mary's too little possession.

The news had been devastating.

The only two persons Rebecca had confided the information in had been her father and sister. Both of them had broken down. Mary's money had been divided between both her and Elizabeth. A private conversation between the two sisters had resulted in a trust fund being set up for the nephew that they'd never met. The idea that little Thomas Harper was both motherless and fatherless broke her heart.

Scanning back through the letter, Rebecca wrote down the name of the family that would be taking Thomas on as ward. The Duncan family of Cleveland weren't as wealthy as many families in New York, but they were a prominent family in the Midwest. Setting the letter down, Rebecca suspected that her father was instrumental in getting the Duncan family to take Thomas on. After learning of Mary's death, he'd been devastated. He'd vowed to do anything to help his grandson. The only condition was that Katherine Harper was never to know of his involvement. A promise both Elizabeth and Rebecca could easily keep.

A surge of anger went through her body and Rebecca pushed the contents of her vanity to the floor. The satisfying sound of glass breaking did little to curb her anger though. Hugging herself, Rebecca looked outside to see Buchanan Manor standing proudly across the bay. It felt like the house was mocking her in a way. The house should belong to Thomas. He was the only son of Tom Buchanan that Rebecca had knowledge of and she'd done plenty of research into Tom Buchanan's background in the first few weeks after Mary had admitted that she was pregnant with Tom's child.

Her anger flared even more in her chest as she thought about the nephew she'd been robbed of and she angrily wished that Mary had never met Buchanan.

Tom Buchanan was like the kiss of death to women everywhere. Everything he touched died a miserable death and she couldn't help but to hope that Tom met a horribly painful death that was drawn out for months, even years. It was nothing less than he deserved. Staring at the house, Rebecca clenched her fist and angrily blew out a breath. She could only imagine the life Thomas would have as a ward compared to the life he should have had as the heir to the Buchanan fortune. The house, the horses, the cars…everything should have been that little boy's. But because of his father's false promises, Thomas would never see a penny.

On his twenty-fifth birthday, Thomas would have access to the trust fund that Rebecca and Elizabeth had set aside. The money would sit in a safe where nothing would happen to it. Stocks could go down, the market could crash and yet, her nephew's money would remain safe and untouched. It would, however, never been the same as the actual Buchanan fortune.

"Mrs. Gatsby?"

Rebecca turned around to see a timid looking Tilly staring at her nervously.

"Yes?"

"Your bath is ready, ma'am," the maid said quickly. "If you're ready."

Rebecca nodded and turned to face Tilly, "Could you do me a favor?"

"Ma'am?"

"Find out if Meyer Wolfsheim will be attending the performance tonight," Rebecca said quietly as an idea quickly formed in her mind. "Keep this between you and me though."

* * *

Later in the morning, Crawley stood holding Gatsby's walking stick and hat. Rebecca let Tilly help her slip on a pair of soft gloves and frowned. Jay came to Crawley quickly as he issued orders to a young man that was following him. Crawley moved to open the large double doors of the main entry way. Gatsby strode past her without a glace as he continued talking to the nervous looking man who was scribbling on his notepad he had like a mad man.

Rolling her eyes, Rebecca followed both men out the doors. Both her car and Gatsby's was parked in the circle turnabout. The large fountain in the center of the drive was running and water shot up and out to create a beautiful arc. The sunlight made it stand out with hundreds of little fractures of light making the water appear to have thousands of tiny rainbows. It was beautiful and something that Mary would have admired

Rebecca hadn't been paying very much attention to what was in front of her. The next moment the young man that had been following Gatsby turned around and slammed into her. It felt like the air had been knocked out of her body as she nearly fell over. Brighton had rushed to her side and caught her before she fell down into the marble steps.

The young man wasn't so lucky and she looked down to see him sprawled on the gravel drive. The roar of Gatsby's engine sounded and Rebecca watched as he sped out without even a nod or a look of concern.

"Does he always leave like he's in a hurry?" the young man asked as he stood up.

"He tends to do that," she said quietly as Tilly came racing down the steps to make sure she was alright. "You get used to it. Who are you?"

"Madison. Chip Madison," the young man replied quickly. "I'm so sorry for knocking you over, Mrs. Gatsby. I'm Mr. Gatsby's new assistant and I didn't even see you. My apologies,ma'am."

"You'll get used to it, Mr. Madison," Rebecca said again as Brighton opened the door for her. Tilly quickly finished her exam and nodded. Grateful, Rebecca walked towards the car.

"Mrs. Gatsby," Brighton said tipping his hat at her. She could already tell that Chip Madison was going to be annoying and she didn't want to spend another moment in the man's company.

"To Saks Fifth Avenue, please," she told him as she sat back in the seat. Brighton nodded and closed the door. Within minutes they were moving towards the city and Rebecca couldn't help but feel the anticipation at seeing Elizabeth. She was also curious to know what her sister would think of her plan.

* * *

It was hours later when they were looking through the designer evening dresses that she was able to bring up the idea. The excitement had died down a little and any major conversation between the two of them had ended. Elizabeth stood in front of a three way mirror looking at herself in a black evening gown that hit the floor perfectly and the thick straps that went over her shoulders glittered.

"What do you think?"

Rebecca looked up from where she'd been sitting to see Elizabeth staring at her expectantly.

"It looks very nice one you," she said slowly. "I like how it sits on your figure."

Elizabeth smiled and looked at the shopping attendant that was with them, "I agree. Add this to our purchases."

The young woman nodded and Rebecca stood up. Coming to stand beside Elizabeth, she looked at herself in the mirror as well.

"I need to speak with you about Mary," she started off softly before Elizabeth's eyes met hers in the mirror.

"What about Mary?" the younger sister whispered sadly.

"I received a letter today for the priest who had been taking care of Thomas. Apparently, a family in Cleveland will be taking the boy on as ward until he comes of age."

"Cleveland?" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Why can't he come back to New York?"

"Mary's scandal hasn't died just because she died," Rebecca said sharply. "That little boy comes here and the gossip will kill us all. Right now, he has a family looking after him in a city where they're highly respected. Thomas couldn't ask for more, but I can."

Elizabeth's eyebrow arched, "What do you mean you can?

"I have this idea, Elizabeth. I want Thomas to have everything that a Buchanan and a Harper should have."

"I agree with you in theory. How on earth are you going to give him that?" Elizabeth asked in a confused tone. "It's not possible."

"Yes, it is. There is someone who could help us," Rebecca suggested quietly. "We could do it."

"Who could possibly help us?" Elizabeth shot back angrily. "There isn't anything we can do for Thomas. We can give him money, but beyond that? Nothing!"

Rebecca moved and sat back down on one of the many ottomans that littered the store floor. She suddenly felt so exhausted. Looking up at Elizabeth, she sighed. Elizabeth was so sheltered from the world and Rebecca often had to remind herself that her darling sister didn't know about Jay's real occupation. Like the rest of New York, Elizabeth was under the dazzling spell that Jay had spun. Even she had fallen for it. His smile and charm were like a sweet candy that was laced with cyanide.

"There is a friend of Mr. Gatsby," Rebecca started again slowly. "He's a professional Gambler."

"A professional gambler?" Elizabeth questioned as she sat down next to her. "How can a professional gambler help Thomas?"

"Do you ever look at the Buchanan Manor and think that Mary should live there with Thomas? Do you ever just look at it and think of Thomas' whole future? Elizabeth that house and everything in it should be Thomas' someday. Buchanan lied and manipulated Mary into believing that he'd marry her. He even gave her a ring for God's sake," Rebecca whispered passionately. "He wrote to her that he intended to marry her and she stupidly anticipated her wedding night in his bed! The moment Buchanan found out she was pregnant he went running for the hills. He abandoned her! How does that not make you angry?"

Elizabeth stood up quickly with a hard look on her face, "I'm angry. I'm just as angry as you. I just don't see how everything fits together."

"We can't bring Mary back, but we can give Thomas everything else in the world including the house that should be his. That's what I want. I want Thomas to have everything that should rightfully be his. Mr. Wolfsheim is professional gambler who can help us."

"Wolfsheim? How can he help?"

"He could fix a game for us," Rebecca said slowly. "A game in which Tom Buchanan gambles everything away."

Elizabeth sat back down next to Rebecca, "That's a very…horrible thing to do."

"What Buchanan did to our family was a horrible thing to do! All we're doing is ensuring that our nephew has the future he should have had. Everything will be his. Think about it, Elizabeth. We're helping Mary's son in ways that she could only dream about. I know you think it may be horrible, but does it matter at this point? Tom Buchanan doesn't deserve to keep getting away with his affairs and breaking women's hearts. He is a man who thinks he is God and deserves to be knocked down as many pegs as possible."

Elizabeth looked at her for a moment before she nodded, "Has Wolfsheim agreed to help us?"

"I haven't spoken to him yet," Rebecca said quietly. "I wanted to know if you were…agreeable with my idea."

A hard look grew over Elizabeth's face as the minutes silently trickled by. Rebecca could see the same anger on Elizabeth's face that was inside her own heart. Their parents never spoke a word about Mary or her son, but both she and Elizabeth had privately spoken. Always wondering at Mary's short, cryptic letters that came once in blue moon and in four years they'd only managed to accumulate a few short letters. Brief little letters that were hardly anything special, but showed how truly unhappy with her life Mary had become.

"Speak with him soon," Elizabeth said finally."He'd better be as good as you believe, Rebecca. It will take a lot to con Tom Buchanan. He's smart."

"But Wolfsheim is smarter," Rebecca smiled. "Don't worry. Everything will work out."

"I hope," Elizabeth smiled back. "Now, let's pick out a dress for this evening. I want to see Mr. Gatsby's jaw fall to the floor when he sees you tonight."

Rebecca could only offer Elizabeth a half smile. Jay wouldn't care about what she wore or how she looked. He never did. She'd long ago given up on trying. All she could do was humor Elizabeth.

* * *

Rebecca stared at the reflection in the mirror. The dress she wore was white and black. The black lace over the white dress was striking and it made her smile. She'd picked it out with Elizabeth earlier in the day.

Elizabeth's excitement had proven to be infectious and Rebecca had even become excited about going out with Gatsby. Rebecca had even secretly wanted to make sure that she looked perfect. Elizabeth's excitement had only triggered hers in the end and had resulted in her buying the current dress she was wearing. It felt strange to try and think about what Jay would think she'd look pretty in, but with Elizabeth's help she'd managed. She'd long ago given up on pleasing him when she dressed, but tonight she wanted to look pretty and perfect on his arm.

Thick straps went over her shoulder and created a deep 'v' down her back. The white silk skirt of the dress was slimming along with the black lace over lay around her tiny waist. Pearl earrings dangled from her ear lobes and the pearl and diamond necklace she wore rested against her breast bone. Capped sleeves hugged her shoulders and reminded her how soft the material was against her smooth skin.

Her hair was pulled back in sweeping twist like concoction that was soft. It looked like Tilly had taken her hair and braided it while leaving it loose. The headband of diamond and pearls that went across her hair only made it look all the more stunning. The ribbon that tied at the base of her neck tickled her skin while teasing Rebecca's senses.

She hoped that Gatsby would say something about her appearance. If he told her she was beautiful and they died in a car crash minutes later, Rebecca was sure she'd die a happy woman.

Applying perfume to her neck and wrists, Rebecca stood up and walked away from the vanity. Her dress made a 'swish' sound across the floor and she truly hoped that she impressed him. Tilly held open the door for her, but she stopped.

"Thank you so much Tilly for all your hard work," Rebecca smiled as Tilly flushed red from the praise. It was rare that anyone praised the staff, but tonight Tilly truly deserved it. Stepping out into the hallway, Rebecca smiled seeing Crawley.

"If I may pay a compliment, ma'am," Crawley said. "You look lovely."

"Thank you," Rebecca smiled. "Where is Mr. Gatsby? It's almost time to leave."

A look briefly crossed Crawley's face and Rebecca wished she hadn't seen it. It was the same look he had when Gatsby was on the wire. It shouldn't have surprised her, but it did.

"Where is he at?" she demanded of Crawley.

The man gave her a sad look and turned. He held out his arm as if gesturing for her to lead the way.

"The library, ma'am," he answered quietly.

Rebecca's jaw felt tight as she walked down the hallway. The heels of her shoes clicking on the marble floor as Crawley and Tilly followed her. She followed the hallway until she reached the stairs and walked quickly up them to the third floor of the manor. In the library, she spotted Gatsby standing at the desk with the wire. He was speaking quietly on it when she pushed the half closed door opened. He wasn't dressed at all for a night out.

She felt the anger that had been inside of her earlier that morning simmering to the surface as she watched Gatsby pick up a piece of paper and offer it out to her. He didn't say a word as he listened to the man on the other end of the line. He didn't even spare her a glance.

Yanking the paper out of his extended hand, Rebecca quickly scanned the note. It was simple. He stated that a business matter had come up, but he'd arranged for Elizabeth to take his place at the performance that evening. Gatsby also stated that he'd already made the arrangements and Elizabeth would be arriving any moment.

There was nothing in the letter about making different arrangements so that they could attend some sort of function together. No apologies about ruining the evening or what she should tell Nick when asked where Gatsby had gone.

Nothing.

He hadn't even written to her one line about how pretty she looked in her new dress. Staring at him, Rebecca folded the letter and waited. It seemed that the moment Gatsby had handed her the letter, she became invisible to him. He'd sat down in one of the plush, comfortable armchair that were scattered throughout the library. His back was to her and Rebecca felt the urge to throw something at the back of his head. One of the books on his desk looked heavy enough, but the voice of her mother screamed in her ear that good wives and ladies did send volleys at their husbands.

She disagreed, but years of discipline controlled her.

Leaving the note on his desk, Rebecca turned and left the library without a single word to Tilly or Crawley. All she wanted to do was leave the wretched house that felt more like a prison and never return. Squaring her shoulders, Rebecca continued down the steps. She refused to cry. Gatsby had stolen enough of her tears. Crying wasn't going to solve anything. She'd learn that long ago. Gatsby was immune to tears, begging and pleading. He honestly just didn't care about her or anything beyond himself. Tilly met her at the front door with three tickets and her beaded clutch. The night was warm enough that a coat wasn't needed.

"Miss Harper's driver just pulled up," Crawley said as Tilly helped her into snow white glove that ended at her wrist bone. "I let her know you'd both be taking the Rolls Royce to Mr. Carraway's house."

Checking her appearance in the large hallway mirror one last time, Rebecca nodded at Crawley.

"Have a lovely evening, Mrs. Gatsby," Tilly squeaked and Rebecca tried to smile. It came out as more of a grimace, but Tilly smiled back brightly none the less.

"Thank you."

A foot man held open the door for her and Crawley followed her down the front steps to the waiting Rolls Royce. Brighton stood holding open the door for her. He tipped his hat as Crawley helped her into the waiting car. Elizabeth was inside the car already and the both shared a look. Elizabeth's look was one of pity and Rebecca's glance was a fierce glare that steadily warned her sister not to ask any questions.

The door was closed and within seconds Brighton was in the driver's seat. The car pulled away from Gatsby Manor and Rebecca looked out the window of the car. Pushing away everything that had happened was a challenge, but she managed. The drive to Nick's little cottage was quick, but it was just enough time for Rebecca to give herself a talk of sorts. She managed to pull herself together just as Brighton opened the door for Nick. She gracefully slid over in the comfortably large backseat.

"Nick! How lovely it is to see you," she smiled.

"You as well, Rebecca," Nick smiled back. "Will Gatsby be joining us at the performance in a separate car?"

Rebecca managed to keep the smile on her face as she patted the leather seat next to her with a gloved hand.

"Mr. Gatsby sends his regards," she told Nick. "Something came up that couldn't be avoided. I do apologize. In Mr. Gatsby's place my sister came. Nick Carraway, this is my younger sister, Elizabeth Harper."

Elizabeth leaned over and offered her hand to Nick, "A pleasure to meet you."

"You as well," Nick smiled as Rebecca rested her back against the leather seat. She was already exhausted from the evening and it had barely begun.

* * *

Intermission came and after the final notes of the piece ended. The music had been wonderful and Rebecca had managed to let herself be taken away by it. The melodies and each piece were so different. She'd enjoyed listening to each one and letting it overtake her mind and senses. As the lighting in the theater changed and brightened a little, Rebecca looked around.

People below on the floor were greeting each other and some boxes around them were empty as other one's filled quickly with people anxious to meet friends and business relations. Her blood froze when she spotted Tom Buchanan with some woman who clearly wasn't his wife. Quickly looking away, Rebecca stared at the box directly across from their seats. It had but one person in it and it was someone who Rebecca saw often at Gatsby Manor.

Meyer Wolfsheim.

Rebecca's spine stiffened as she laid eyes on Meyer Wolfsheim across the theater. He tipped his head at her and gave her a smile that would make any woman's skin crawl. Ignoring the feeling, Rebecca stood up quickly and looked down at Nick and Elizabeth who were in deep conversation.

"Excuse me," she murmured and left the box without saying another word. One of Gatsby's men followed her at a quick pace as Rebecca quickly crossed the theater to the other side and climbed the stairs to the hallway that housed the entrances to the box seats. Wolfsheim must have expected her to come because his box door was open. One of his men was standing in the door way.

"Ma'am," he said as he tilled his bowler hat at her and stepped out of the way. Rebecca entered the box and walked slowly to the first row of chairs where Meyer sat alone.

"I thought I saw you over there," Meyer said as she sat down leaving a chair between them. "Enjoying the show?"

"I didn't know you were a lover of music," Rebecca told him. "Has someone finally taught you about appreciating it?"

Meyer turned and looked at her with a smile, "Where is your husband?"

"Home. Something came up. Don't ask me, I have no idea."

Meyer chuckled, "Ah, aren't you a feisty woman?"

"I didn't come here to speak with you about Jay or the business," Rebecca continued ignoring his bait. "I came to you because I think I may have something that could benefit us both."

Meyer turned his whole body and looked at her, "So, it is business."

"Not the kind of business you deal with. I know you fixed the 1919 World Series. Which is why I need you to help me with something," she told him. "There's something I need and you'll benefit from it greatly."

"Sounds like a woman is out for revenge," Meyer smiled as his gold tooth glimmered in the soft lighting of the theater.

"Something I'm sure you know very well."

Meyer leaned back in the seat and ran his index finger over his chin, "I'm listening."

"There's a man," she started out quietly. "His name is Tom Buchanan."

"The man who supposedly was your sister's lover," Meyer stated bluntly. "Delicious."

"My sister killed herself over half a year ago. Her son in now motherless and fatherless because of that retched man," Rebecca snapped. "Don't laugh at what happened."

"My condolences," Meyer said quietly and the smile left his face completely.

"I know that the same thing happened to your sister with a man. You never did figure out who he was, did you? She never even told you on her death bed."

"What is your point, Mrs. Gatsby?"

"My point is that I need your help to get revenge," Rebecca told him passionately. "That little boy should have everything in the world and yet, he was placed with a family in Cleveland. I want that little boy to have everything that Tom Buchanan denied him. The fortune, the damn house across the bay and everything in that house, Mr. Wolfsheim."

Wolfsheim looked at her for a moment before his grin returned, "How do you plan on keeping that house in one piece. It won't be a financial burden on you?"

"When Mary died, her money…all of it was divided between me and Elizabeth. Mary had almost twenty million dollars that was supposed to be hers after her twentieth birthday. Elizabeth and I have already taken the money that was added to our inheritance and placed in a trust fund that can only be touched by that little boy. The money can be used for maintained of the house, education and if he wants to invest in something he can use that money. It is the fortune that he should have been heir to when he was born. I refuse to live with the knowledge that my nephew is out in the world without knowing the truth," Rebecca said quickly. "What I need Mr. Wolfsheim is that damn house in East Egg. That house should rightfully be his and when Tom Buchanan dies it will got to that bratty little wife of his. I'm asking your help to get Buchanan to gamble away the deed to that house and the contents within. Whatever money you make off the game is yours to keep. I just want the deed to the house and the land. That's all."

"Are you sure that Buchanan will even bet the deed?"

Rebecca looked across the theater to see Buchanan whispering something in the latest ear of his nightly conquest. She'd seen him earlier in the theater and she knew recognized the tall, brown haired woman as some Vogue model she'd seen before in the magazines.

"Look at him, Mr. Wolfsheim," she said softly. "He's arrogant, snobbish and he's a hypocrite. Getting him to gamble the house away won't be exactly easy, but if you get him winning enough hands and cards. It can be done. You just have to…get him going."

Wolfsheim looked towards Buchanan and was silent for several moments before he spoke again.

"A brilliant plan, Mrs. Gatsby," Wolfsheim spoke. "You're a very smart woman. I'll give you twenty percent of the earnings from the money made. I'll make sure my lawyer has everything legal. I'll have another one of my men start...encouraging Buchanan to play. Make him feel like he's a God and can't lose a hand. All you'll have to do is wait for my phone call."

He stood but Rebecca grabbed his arm, "What aren't telling me? I get the feeling that you're being far too generous with me. What are you hiding Meyer?"

Wolfsheim looked at Buchanan and back at Rebecca sadly, "I've seen Buchanan's face before."

He pulled out a picture of pretty young woman and a man. Rebecca's heart nearly stopped in her chest when she saw the face of a younger Tom Buchanan staring back at her.

"Don't think you're the only person who has been affected by Buchanan's ways. My sister and her son died in child bed. I've wanted revenge on the man responsible for a very long time. I've searched high and low, but I didn't know who the man was until you pointed him out to me tonight, Mrs. Gatsby. So, by my estimations, you are the woman who won the bounty I've quietly had out on his head for a very long time. Hence, the twenty percent you'll receive in the game. House, grounds and all the contents of both will be yours, of course," Meyer said, "I just want Buchanan to suffer like Rachel did."

The look on Meyer's face would have made her blood run cold, but Rebecca didn't care. Tom Buchanan was a man that used good women and tossed them away without any care in the world. He made them believed that they were in love with him and at the last second he pulled away and left them in the ruins of their own broken hearts.

"I'm all for destroying Buchanan," Rebecca said quietly. "I want justice for your sister and Mary."

"And justice we'll get them," Wolfsheim said quietly. "You'd better return to your seat, Mrs. Gatsby. The show will be starting soon again."

Rebecca nodded and quickly stood up. She left Wolfsheim in his lonely box with mixed feelings. She was gleeful on one hand that Meyer had agreed, but she also pitied him. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like to look for a nameless man. It didn't surprise her that Tom Buchanan was responsible for the child Rachel Wolfsheim had died birthing. God only knew how many bastard children Buchanan had out in the world.

Rebecca had been so engrossed in her thoughts that her heart nearly stopped when someone called her name. Standing on the deserted grand stair case that led to the second floor and the boxes, Rebecca turned and her breath was caught in her lungs.

Walking up the steps was a face she hadn't expected to see ever again.

"Matthew?" she said in shock.

"In the flesh, my darling little Becca," replied the man. He came to stand with her and she smiled. Lord Matthew Spring was exactly as she remembered him. Tall with broad shoulders and a boyish charm that led many ladies to swoon, his light blue eyes twinkled and his smile was bright.

"I'm not so little anymore," Rebecca smiled. "Neither are you."

"Ah, to be young again," Matthew mused. "Only in New York one night and I already have heard rumors about the lovely, Mrs. Gatsby. You married and didn't invite me. I'm insulted."

Rebecca's head fell back and she laughed, "You were in England! By the time, that you'd have received my letter, replied to it, returned to New York...well, I would have been married already! It didn't make any sense!"

"Yes well, I'm still sorry I didn't get to see it," he teased. "Were you a beautiful bride?"

"The prettiest," she whispered quietly as the bell rang once singling that the show would resume in five minute.

"I'll take you back to your box," Matthew smiled. "You must introduce me to the man who stole you away."

Rebecca didn't have the heart to tell Matthew that she'd been abandoned by her husband for the evening. When they reached the box, Elizabeth was the first to greet them and she flew into Matthew's arms. Sneaking a glance at Nick, Rebecca felt her cheeks warm under steady gaze as he watched her.

* * *

Elizabeth Harper had proven to be very popular and Nick wasn't surprised. She was a chatty little thing and amusing. Her outward appearance was deceiving to many it seemed. She was an intellectual being and not the bumbling, dumb, bimbo he'd been expecting.

Nick chastised himself internally. Both Harper sisters were beautiful and both were smart. To believe that one was idiotic and the other intellectual was unfair.

The performance had been wonderful and Nick had been looking forward to questioning Rebecca more about Gatsby's absence from the evening. He'd been extremely surprised when she'd gotten up and hastily left their box. When he'd questioned where she was going, Elizabeth had simply waved her hand and told him not to worry. Nick, however, had watched her from across the theater. He'd seen her stroll into some unknown man's box and sit down. She'd stared at the box Tom was occupying with some unknown woman and anger had been written all over her face.

It had made Nick wonder as he watched the conversation she'd conducted with the man in the box. The conversation hadn't looked like a conversation between lovers. No, it had looked like a conversation between two business people and it had looked tense and volatile at times.

Nick had speculated at one point if he should have gone back over and retrieved Rebecca. He was uncomfortable watching her speak with the man while she was under his care for the evening. Nick had wondered what Gatsby would have done if he'd been there with them. After pondering the question for a few minutes, Nick realized that Gatsby probably would have done nothing.

It was clear to him that both Rebecca and Jay weren't exactly happily married. It was more Gatsby tolerated his wife and his wife tried her hardest to ignore her husband in return.

Having asked around about the Gatsby's, the only thing he'd found out from Jordan was that Rebecca Harper's marriage to Jay Gatsby had been the talk of the town when it happened and many women envied her wealth, status, and husband. It only made Nick even more curious to know Gatsby and Rebecca more. It was like the beliefs and ideas the public had about them were so far off that it didn't make sense.

Nick was surprised when Rebecca returned with a man that he'd never seen or met before. He was tall and dressed handsomely in a suit. His blond hair was combed back and his hand rested on the small of her back. Elizabeth seemed to know the man well if her behavior was anything to go by. She launched herself into the man's arms and he caught her with what appeared to be practiced ease.

"Little Bess," the man grinned and Nick was surprised to hear an English accent. "Look at you! How you've gotten tall. Soon you'll be as tall as me!"

Elizabeth laughed, "You came back. You must tell us how London was."

"After the performance," the man promised with a smile.

"Before I'm seen as being rude," Rebecca said with a smile. "Matthew, this is our dear friend Nick Carraway. Nick, this is a dear childhood friend of ours, Matthew Spring, Earl of Kettlemore."

"Here I thought you were the man that had married our darling Becca," Matthew said with a smile as he and Nick shook hands. "I was just getting ready to offer you my congratulations."

Nick smiled, "No, I'm not that man. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Kettlemore."

"No need to call me 'Lord', Kettlemore is perfectly fine. We're not in London, after all."

The two minute warning bell rang and Matthew smiled, "I'll see you two darlings later. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carraway."

Matthew left them just as the lights began to dim for the second part of the performance.

"How do you know Lord Kettlemore?" Nick asked Rebecca as he settled into his seat between Rebecca and Elizabeth again.

"He'd come from in England in the summers to spend time with his grandmother here in New York," Rebecca whispered. "His mother is Victoria Ashby. The Ashby's are my parent's next door neighbors. We used to play with each other during the summers. He's a few years older than us, but he was like the darling older brother we never had. You'll like him."

Nick nodded as the curtains opened again and applause began as the conductor walked out onto stage effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

 **Tuesday**

 **July 15, 1922**

Rumbling startled Nick as he sat at his kitchen table trying to eat breakfast. A flash of yellow startled hum as he quickly ran to a second window to look. He could see Gatsby making another pass around the house. Quickly going to the front door and stepping out onto the porch, Nick wrapped his robe around himself as Gatsby opened the driver's side door.

"It's pretty isn't, old sport?" Gatsby said. "Haven't you ever seen it before? It's all a custom job."

Nick watched as Gatsby walked around the car and patted a head light, "Supercharged engine."

Having been to two more of Gatsby's parties and having spent plenty of time with Rebecca. Nick had come to realize that he knew nothing about Gatsby. Whenever he asked after Gatsby to Rebecca, sadness would cross her eyes briefly. She'd offer up some kind of reason as to why she and Gatsby weren't together and then she'd change the subject. It only made Nick all the more aware of how unhappy Rebecca was. He knew she thought that she hid it well but he could tell. He could see it in her eyes and he could see it when she watched Gatsby walk away.

It only made Nick all more curious about both Gatsby and Rebecca. They made a striking couple when they stood next to each other, but in reality they were strangers. It was like they went through the motions of pretending to be married when in truth, they didn't care and weren't happy. Either way, it was obvious that something was amiss between the two of them.

"It's a beautiful car," Nick finally managed to say.

"Get dress," Gatsby said with a smile as he opened the passenger door. "We're going to lunch."

Within Twenty minutes, Nick was dressed and sitting next to Gatsby in the custom yellow car. One thing was certain so far, Gatsby's driving was unpredictable. He drove fast and went around whatever was in his way. Holding onto the door, Nick was surprised when Gatsby spoke.

"Oh, well," Gatsby began taking off his circular sunglasses, "Look here, old spot. What's your opinion of me?"

"My opinion?" Nick asked confused.

"Yes! You're opinion. I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me with all these wild accusations you must hear about me. A pack of lies, I guarantee. You've heard the stories?" Gatsby said as someone honked and he hit the break. They avoided an accident as Gatsby correctly moved back over to his side of the lane. Nick could feel his heart racing as Gatsby drove faster.

Nick quickly went to defend that he didn't believe the stories, but Gatsby jumped in and immediately began telling him the truth about himself. The way he spoke made Nick understand why people believed Gatsby was lying. The story became more and more extravagant with each sentence. They passed a truck full of workers who cheered for Gatsby. The man removed his hat at waved it in the air as a sign of appreciation and Nick was amazed even more by Gatsby.


	5. IV: Crazy In Love

**Part IV: Crazy In Love**

 _"...I look and stare so deep in your eyes,_

 _I touch on you more and more every time,_

 _When you leave, I'm begging you not to go_

 _Call your name two, three times in a row,_

 _Such a funny thing for me to try to explain..."_

"Crazy In Love" - Emeli Sande

 **Tuesday**

 **July 15, 1922**

When the Taxi dropped Nick off he was still in shock. The whole day had been a shock in many ways. Going to lunch with Gatsby had been a whole new experience.

The Speak Easy was one of the finest in New York and it had been obvious that only those with money could gain entrance. Tom had been there and the introduction between Tom and Gatsby had been uncomfortable. It had been obvious to Nick that Tom was already on his way to being very drunk. Gatsby had left him at the Speak Easy to find his way to tea with Jordan.

Gatsby's popularity wasn't a surprise either. All he had to do was mention Gatsby's name to the waiter and he had anything and everything he could possible need or want at his fingertips. He'd finished his lunch and had wondered around New York. As the hours passed, he'd become frustrated at both Gatsby and Jordan from keeping secrets from him.

When it had come time to have tea with Jordan, Nick would admit he'd been a little rude but Jordan's story about how Daisy knew Gatsby shocked him into silence. Jordan had explained how she'd met Gatsby once during the war. She'd seen Daisy a car with a strange gentleman, but only now did she realize it had been Gatsby. She told him how Gatsby had gone off to war and when the war ended he hadn't been able to return for some reason.

A year after the war had ended Tom Buchanan of Chicago had swept in and stolen Daisy away from Gatsby. Tom had given her a string of pearls worth three hundred and fifty thousand dollars as a gift and Daisy had agreed to marry him.

On the day of the wedding, Daisy had received a letter from Gatsby. Jordan didn't know what was in the contents of the letter, but at five o'clock that horrible day Daisy had married Tom Buchanan.

Jordan had gone on to tell him about seeing Daisy and Tom in Santa Barbra. A scandal had occurred in the papers not soon after and Tom's cheating spree had only been revealed to the world. He hadn't stopped since. His compulsion to cheat had been the reason why the Buchanan family had to remove themselves from Chicago and relocate to New York. Nick had felt horrible for Daisy, but he'd been unsure if he could do the favor Gatsby and Jordan wanted him to do.

He wasn't sure that he could invite his cousin, a married woman, over to tea. The whole drive back to his little cottage from the city felt like it took years, not minutes. Nick exited the taxi and was surprised to see Gatsby standing outside looking at the house. The manor was lit up like the world fair. Jordan's words about Gatsby throwing all the parties and buying the house so that he could be close to Daisy came flooding back. He wasn't sure how to describe it, but something convinced him to agree to Gatsby's request.

"Your place is lit up like the World's fair or Coney Island," he finally said as Gatsby turned to look at him.

"Does it?" Gatsby smiled.

"Yes."

"Well, I've just been glancing into some of the rooms. What do you say we go to Coney Island? We could take my car."

"Oh, it's late tonight," Nick said trying to turn down Gatsby.

"We could take a plunge in the pool. I haven't used it all summer," Gatsby suggested as he walked towards the small cottage.

"I must get to bed."

"Alright…"

Gatsby looked nervous and Nick knew why, but seeing someone like Gatsby be nervous was strange. It was then and there that he knew he would help Gatsby.

Gatsby turned away to walk back towards his house but Nick stopped him, "Happy to do it Jay! I'm going to call Daisy and invite her to tea."

Gatsby turned around and looked shocked. "That's all right…"

"What day would suit you?"

"What day would suit you?" Gatsby echoed looking even more shocked that everything had been agreed to. "I don't want to put any trouble on you."

"Day after tomorrow?" Nick asked.

"Day after tomorrow?" Gatsby echoed again looking nervous again, "Well…I'd-I'd...see, I'd like to get the grass cut."

Gatsby turned around and looked around him. Nick tried not to smile as he looked around at the none existent grass.

"Well look here, old sport," Gatsby said as he looked back at him. "You don't make much money, do you?"

"Not really."

"If you'll forgive me," Gatsby continued. "I happen to run a business on the side. A sort of side line. You understand what I'm saying, right? You do sell bonds, don't you, old sport?"

"I'm trying to."

"Right. Well, happens to be a rather confidential sort of thing but you might make a nice bit of money."

"No, thank you. I've got my hands full."

"You wouldn't have to do any business with Wolfsheim. I assure you."

"It's a favor, Jay. Just a favor," Nick said quietly and from the look on Gatsby face, he wondered if Gatsby knew what a favor was. "Yes. Happy to do it."

"A favor?"

"Yes," Nick said again."A favor."

A smile crossed Gatsby lip and a far off look came over his face, "Well, good night."

"Good night," Nick smiled.

Gatsby nodded and started walking back towards his house. He passed through the archway that was built into the brick wall that divided Nick's cottage and Gatsby Manor. Nick watched him disappeared and just as he was about to walk into his cottage he spotted something.

A figure appeared in the window and Nick's heart nearly stopped. Rebecca's form was easily seen as she spoke quickly to someone in the room. The phone was pressed to her ear and Nick nearly called Gatsby back to withdraw his agreement. He considered Rebecca a friend and he didn't want to see her hurt.

He knew that she'd never show him her feelings directly, but her soft blue eyes rarely hid her pain from the world. Nick didn't want to see her eyes become any sadder and yet he knew that he was about to play a part in them become sadder. Affairs rarely stayed quiet for long and Nick was sure that's what was bound to happen between Gatsby and Daisy.

* * *

 **Thursday**

 **July 17, 1922**

Rebecca watched Gatsby nervously pace the foray as she descended down the grand staircase with her maid following her.

"Is everything alright?"

Gatsby nearly jumped hearing her. He quickly turned around and watched her with a critical eye.

"Everything is fine. You're still going shopping with Miss Baker?" he asked as Crawley appeared at his side.

"Of course," she told him as she walked across the large marble floor. She came to stop in front of him and raised an eyebrow. Looking at him, Rebecca wondered if he was going somewhere. His suit was nicer than usual and something was different.

Rebecca couldn't explain it but something about Gatsby was different. It was like he was an electric cord that had been pulled tightly and had 50,000 volts passing through his body. Whatever had him so tense must have been important.

"Miss Baker's car just pulled up," Crawley announced as Tilly came forward with her gloves and beaded clutch.

"Wonderful," Gatsby boomed and startled poor Tilly. "I'm sure you and Miss Baker will have a wonderful afternoon together."

Rebecca resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. 'Wonderful' was not how she'd describe the coming afternoon. She barely knew Jordan Baker. They'd grown up in different circles and it had been a shock when Jordan had called asking her to go to shopping together. What had shocked Rebecca even more was how much Gatsby wanted her to go.

The moment she'd gotten a call from Jordan, Gatsby had encouraged her to go and accept the dinner that followed. He'd told her that it would be go to get out and have fun with another friend.

Rebecca had been quick to point out that she wasn't friends with Jordan, but Gatsby had waved her off saying that she needed more friends. It was now that she'd found herself in an impossible situation.

"Brighton will be going with you for safety reasons as always," Gatsby said quickly. "Enjoy your shopping trip."

Crawley opened the front doors and Brighton appeared from the outside holding an umbrella up to shelter them both from the rain. Rebecca turned back from where Tilly had finished adjusting her gloves to find that Jay had disappeared again as usual.

He hadn't even said he was going to leave, but Rebecca took the fact that he wished her a good trip as a positive. A rare sign of progress from Gatsby on his part and she wasn't likely to see again for a long time. Walking towards the front doors, Rebecca stared out at the bleak day and the pounding rain that was nearly coming down sideways. Taking hold of Brighton's strong arm so she wouldn't slip, Rebecca descended the steps to Jordan's car where a rug had been laid out for her to walk on.

Quickly getting into the car, Rebecca swallowed back her urge to run back inside to her bed. As the car pulled away, Rebecca couldn't help but have the feeling that the day would be very long one.

* * *

"I just want to go in to this shop," Jordan said. "Will you be alright out here?"

"I'll be fine," Rebecca smiled. "Brighton is with us. It's not a big deal. I just want some fresh air."

"Suit yourself," Jordan shrugged.

Rebecca watched with a sigh of relief as Jordan went into the shop. Shopping with Miss Baker was exhausting. The woman wanted to know everything about her and interrogated her for details on how every single article of clothing looked on and off her. Jordan had been so picky about the colors, sizes and shapes for the both of them. Never had shopping been so laborious and all Rebecca wanted to do was go home. Turning to Brighton, Rebecca looked up at him and shook her head.

"If I'm bored, you're twice as bored, I imagine," she told him as traffic passed by them. Brighton said nothing, but only cracked a smile as a car that had passed them stopped down the street a little ways. Rebecca watched as a familiar face appeared.

Dressed in blue pinstriped suit, Meyer Wolfsheim exited the back of the car and walked towards her. His smile didn't put her off as much as it had before. In fact, Rebecca was sure that his smile was almost gleeful, like he was excited about something. He carried an envelope in his hand and it made Rebecca curious to know what was in it.

"I hope you're enjoying the many stores," Wolfsheim said as he stopped in front of her.

"I dearly love to shop," she replied. "Don't you?"

Wolfsheim smiled and ignored her question, "I thought you might like this little bit of information."

He held out the envelope to her. She took it and quickly opened the back. Slipping the thick paper out, Rebecca stared down at detailed notes about Tom Buchanan's personal life. Some things on the list were so personal that Rebecca felt uncomfortable reading them.

"It appears that Mr. Buchanan isn't much of a saint," Wolfsheim continued. "The current woman he's having an affair with is named Myrtle Wilson. Apparently, her husband owns a car garage in the valley of ashes."

"I'm familiar with the place," Rebecca said reading over the notes that had been made about Buchanan. "I pass it when I'm going to or coming from the city. It says here they also have a secret apartment. Is it safe to assume that neither Mrs. Buchanan nor Mr. Wilson knows about the affair?"

"Mrs. Buchanan? I don't know. Mr. Wilson? He thinks his wife can do no wrong," Wolfsheim smiled. "Why do you want to know?"

"You never know when a visit is in order," Rebecca replied as she returned his smile. "I do like to have all the information before crushing a man's heart."

"I will see you soon, Mrs. Gatsby," he said tipping his hat at her. "Enjoy your shopping trip."

Before Rebecca could reply, Wolfsheim was stepping back into his car. The door was barely shut before the car was driving off. Rebecca watched the car turn the corner and clutched the envelope close to her chest. She knew that when Wolfsheim did a job, he did it right.

Gatsby and Wolfsheim had the same work ethic in the end and it shouldn't have surprised her. Opening her clutch and slipping the letter inside, Rebecca nearly jumped when she looked up to see Jordan.

"Oh," she said covering her heart. "You scared me!"

"What's that?" Jordan asked as she looked down at Rebecca's clutch.

"A letter from a friend," Rebecca lied. "He asked me to give it to my husband."

Jordan believed her lie and nodded, "Shall we get going to dinner? We'll be late."

Just as Rebecca was about to agree, another familiar car pulled up. The driver quickly exited and raced around to open the back door. Blond hair was the first thing she saw followed by broad shoulders and a narrow waist with long legs.

"Matthew!" she called loudly and waved a hand.

The blond head turned to them and Rebecca found herself seeing the light blue eyes of Matthew Spring. A smile came over his face as he quickly walked towards them after having a quick word with his driver.

"Ah! My darling," he said as he bent down and kissed Rebecca's cheek. "How lovely to see you! This is a friend of yours?"

Rebecca turned to look at Jordan with a smile, "Jordan Baker, this is one of my oldest friends. Lord Matthew Spring, Earl of Kettlemore. Matthew, this is Jordan Baker."

"Lovely to meet you, Miss Baker," Matthew said as he took Jordan's hand and kissed the back of it. "Lord Kettlemore at your service, ma'am."

Jordan smiled and returned his pleasantry with a blush.

"What are you ladies doing today?" Matthew asked as he offered each of them an arm.

"We were just heading off to dinner," Jordan smiled. "You're welcome to join us if you want. Any friend of dear Rebecca is always welcomed."

Matthew stole a glance at Rebecca before he nodded in agreement. "Of course, I'd be delighted to."

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Crawley opened the front door of Gatsby manor. Rebecca walked up the steps with the lights shining the way.

"Good evening. Crawley," she smiled.

"Good evening, ma'am," he replied as she handed him her gloves.

"Is Mr. Gatsby still awake?"

"In the library ma'am…"

"Good. I'm off to bed as you should be too, Crawley. You need sleep just like the rest of us."

"Of course, ma'am. Goodnight," Crawley said dutifully.

"Goodnight, Crawley," Rebecca replied with a smile as she moved off towards the stairs. She knew Crawley wasn't going to bed yet. In the back of her mind, she was aware that she should care, but she didn't.

She was far too deliriously happy to care about anything thing else. The evening had been wonderful. Matthew had been such a joy to see and spend time with. He was ever the gentleman and even left the hard to impress Miss Jordan Baker with a crush. He spoke about his time in London and answered all their questions about his estate, family and even told them about his hobbies.

Jordan had been thoroughly shocked when she found out that Matthew was an avid golfer. While he wasn't pro like she was, Matthew and Jordan spent nearly forty-five minutes speaking about golfing. He even delighted in telling them stories about the war and his part in it.

The night could not have been more splendid. The smile that Rebecca wore on her face never left as she opened the door to her rooms to see Tilly standing and waiting for her.

"Your bath is ready, ma'am," the maid said quietly. "Would you like some tea before bed?"

"No," Rebecca answered. "Just a bath."

Tilly nodded and quickly came over to help Rebecca out of her clothing.

"Did you have a good day?" Tilly finally asked after Rebecca had slipped into the warm vanilla scented water.

"The best," Rebecca said with a smile as she rested the back of her head on the large, white porcelain tub. "It was so wonderful. How was yours?"

"I saw the most interesting lady today," Tilly smiled as she prepared Rebecca's soaps.

"Really? Who?"

"She was here at the manor. She was tall and blonde with one of those flapper haircuts and she had the prettiest lavender dress on. She showed up with Mr. Carraway and Mr. Gatsby for a tour of the house. Mr. Gatsby looked like he had a jolly time showing her around the manor and all the new things he likes, you know. He even showed her that orange juice maker he has. They seemed like a very merry trio."

"And who was this mystery girl? Mr. Carraway's secret lover?" Rebecca giggled happily.

"No," Tilly gasped as her cheeks blushed. "Nothing so scandalous! She was his cousin. Her name was Daisy. Like the flower! I just can't remember her last name."

"Daisy?" Rebecca said sitting up quickly in the water and causing it splashed over the sides. Her heart was racing as she looked at Tilly anxiously for more information.

She hoped to God that it wasn't the same Daisy she was thinking of. There was only one woman that she knew was named Daisy and it was the last woman she wanted in her home.

"Buchanan!" Tilly exclaimed in triumph. "That's what her name was! Daisy Buchanan!"

Rebecca lay back in the water as a sinking feeling consumed her. The seemingly perfect day was shattered by the knowledge that Daisy Buchanan had been in her house along with Nick and Jay.

Something inside didn't feel right.

Was that why Gatsby had gotten so dressed up?

Had he known all along that Daisy Buchanan and Nick were going to be in the house?

* * *

 **Monday**

 **July 21, 1922**

"You invited Daisy to this weekend's party?" Nick hissed as he sat in the gardens with Gatsby having tea. Rebecca had been called away by the housekeeper who needed help with something leaving the two men alone.

"Yes," Gatsby replied calmly. "I did, old sport."

"Are you insane? Does your wife know that the Buchanan's are coming?"

"No, and she's not going to know. I don't want to raise any suspicions with her. You can't tell her!"

Nick leaned back in his white iron chair and sighed. Seeing Rebecca was much harder than he thought it would be. She was so kind to him and he genuinely liked her. She was a sweet woman who was always more than willing to go out of her way to make him more than comfortable. He'd lost track of how many times she'd come over for tea and to chat or sent over flowers from her gardens to brighten up his house.

She was so generous that he felt guilty. Nick felt like he was taking advantage of her kindness while he was helping Gatsby see Daisy behind her back. Rebecca was giving him flowers, all while he helped her husband have an affair. It made him wonder how Tom lived with himself. How was his cousin's husband able to have affair after affair and still lie to Daisy that everything was fine and that he loved her?

"Are you sure about this Jay?" Nick asked finally. "Are you sure you're doing the right thing?"

"I'm sure I know what I'm doing with Daisy," Gatsby answered. "I…I love her, Nick. She's all I've ever wanted. I won't apologize for that. I do apologize if I am making this difficult for you. I just…I just want to…I'm sorry, Nick."

Nick stared at Gatsby for a long, hard minute before he spoke again.

"What will you do when Rebecca finds out? Affairs are never kept quiet for long. You and I both know that. This is going to crush her."

Gatsby was silent and Nick looked at him for a few minutes before it all clicked in his mind.

"You want her to know about the affairs," he whispered. "It gives her a reason to leave so…so Daisy can come here. You want Rebecca to leave. You want her to leave. Jay, if…Daisy doesn't leave Tom-"

"Daisy will leave Tom," Gatsby said passionately. "She has to. She will! I know she will!"

"If she doesn't you've just effectively ruined any trust between you and Rebecca. You'll have ruined your marriage Jay. That can't be-"

"What marriage?" Gatsby snapped. "Do you see any kind of happy marriage between Rebecca and me? Any? This wasn't a marriage based on affection or love or anything. This marriage was based solely on the interest of two very desperate people, Nick. Does that sound like love to you?"

Before Nick could reply, Rebecca joined them at the table with a cheerful look on her face.

"Did I miss something?" she asked."You both look like you've been fighting."

"Nothing is wrong, dear," Gatsby said with a wave of his hand. "We were talking about baseball."

"Ah, baseball," Rebecca smiled. "Everyone loves baseball."

"Nick and I were just discussing the next game and if we would go."

"We?" Rebecca asked and Nick was sure he saw some excitement in her eyes. "We've never gone to a game before."

"Nick and I were thinking that we'd go. I figured that you'd be busy with some charity thing during the day or something. I'll get us a box," Gatsby smiled. "What do you say, Carraway?"

Nick didn't miss the way Rebecca's eyes dulled or her smile fell a little. She tried to recover quickly, but she wasn't quick enough. He could tell that Gatsby's exclusion hurt. He wondered if Rebecca had ever gone to a baseball game.

She'd probably like it. He knew plenty of women that liked baseball. Rebecca quickly covered her face with a fake smile that Nick could see through. He'd been around Rebecca long enough that he could see when she was faking happiness. He rarely saw her happy and he'd gotten good at differing between everything. For the most part, Nick always could recognize the sadness in her eyes.

"I'm sure you two will have a lovely time," Rebecca said as Crawley appeared behind Gatsby.

"Mr. Gatsby, sir," the butler murmured. "Chicago on the wire."

There was a tense moment as Rebecca stared at Gatsby as if daring him to leave her table, but it passed. Gatsby didn't hesitate to toss his linen napkin away. He stood up and nodded at Nick.

"Excuse me. I'll be back soon."

Gatsby walked off with Crawley trailing behind. Nick watched as Rebecca gently put down her tea cup and saucer. She reached for a chocolate treat of some kind and smiled at him.

"I swear to you, Nick," she said with a chuckle. "I'm sure if Jay could divorce me and marry the wire, he would!"

He could tell her poor attempt at humor was a way to hide her hurt at once again being abandoned for the phone. Nick didn't care if Gatsby left to take a phone call, but he was sure that Gatsby abandoning a meal or a guest or a simple conversation with Rebecca was a normal occurrence in their house.

It was no wonder that Rebecca always stiffened when the word 'wire' was mentioned. Gatsby was always leaving for a call. It only took him a second to realize that Jay and Tom weren't so different. They both ignored their wives for the most part and did nothing to try and make them happy. The only true difference between Tom and Jay was that Tom slept with anything that had breasts and two legs. Jay had so far, to Nick's limited knowledge, been faithful in his marriage to Rebecca.

That last difference, however, was about to end and Nick was playing a vital role in the affair. It all made him wonder if Rebecca would forgive him and still be his friend when the horrible truth came out.

"Do you love Gatsby?" Nick asked out of the blue.

The words had come forth from his lips and he hadn't even thought twice. He needed to know the truth about Rebecca's feelings for Gatsby if he was going to continue covering for Gatsby and Daisy. It was rude, but he had to know.

"That's such a personal question," Rebecca said looking down at the napkin in her lap. "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm sorry," Nick smiled after a few second. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

She looked up at him with a smile at didn't quite reach her eyes, "Maybe someday I'll tell you everything, but not today."

Gatsby returned a few minutes later with a smile, "Feel like a walk, old sport?"

* * *

 **Friday**

 **July 25, 1922**

"Promise me you'll keep Rebecca occupied," Gatsby said quietly as he and Nick walked down the grand staircase of Gatsby Manor. "I need to speak with Daisy tonight and I don't want Rebecca to become suspicious."

Nick felt torn.

Ever since Gatsby had revealed his true life story to him, Nick felt pity for him that he'd lost Daisy to Tom. It wasn't fair, but rarely was life ever fair. Gatsby had been ripped away from Daisy, who had decided to marry Tom. It made Nick wonder if Daisy had truly loved Gatsby, why she hadn't waited longer for him? If she loved him unconditionally like Gatsby loved her, Daisy would have waited till the end of time for Jay.

She hadn't and while Gatsby couldn't quite see his cousin's flaws, Nick could. Daisy was selfish and love would never be enough for her. Just loving Gatsby wouldn't be enough to keep her happy. She needed someone like Tom who would give her lavish gifts and expensive trips. She needed material things to prove that someone loved her and Nick knew that the affair would only end in disaster for everyone involved.

He was torn between letting the train wreck that was bound to happen come to life and stopping the affair in its tracks. All he had to do was go to Tom and tell him how Daisy was going to cheat on him with Jay Gatsby. Being the hypocrite that he was, Nick had no doubt that Tom would grovel and promise to remain faithful and so on until Daisy once again became entranced by her husband.

It was a difficult decision and he wondered again what Rebecca would do if she knew.

"Alright," Nick agreed quietly. "I'll keep Rebecca occupied, but tonight is the only night Jay. I won't aid you in hurting her."

Gatsby didn't say anything else as a footman stopped at the base of the steps and told them that the Buchanan's had arrived. Gatsby told him to wait and so Nick waited on the steps as a server walked over with a glass of champagne and offered it to him. Taking a sip, Nick watched the crowd looking for one familiar face that was missing from the night so far.

Rebecca.

Just as he was about to move and give up hope of Gatsby ever returning, Nick paused when he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

"I thought I saw you!"

Nick turned around and smiled. Rebecca looked stunning in an ivory beaded silk dress as she stood a few steps away from him. Thick straps went over her thin shoulders and the top of the dress molded to her body. Near her waist line a thick band of beading gave way to pleated skirt that fell just below her knees. Her hair was done in an elegant twist of some kind and a sparkling clip of sapphires and pearls accented her ivory. Pearls and diamonds studs were attached to her ear lobes and a necklace rested against her breast bone. Her heels clicked on the marble steps as she walked down to him.

"You look beautiful," Nick smiled as he took her hand and kissed it when she was close enough.

"You look very handsome yourself," Rebecca smiled back.

Before Nick could tease back that she was the prettiest between the pair of them, Gatsby returned with both Daisy and Tom following him.

"Ah, Nick!" Gatsby smiled. "I see you've found Rebecca."

"I see you've found Tom and Daisy," Nick said as he let go of Rebecca's hand. He quickly exchanged greetings with Tom and Daisy. Gatsby looked at Rebecca with a bare smile as he picked up a glass of champagne from a waiter.

"You've met Mr. Buchanan and his wife before, haven't you?" Gatsby said as he looked at Rebecca expectantly. "I'm sure you've seen them at other parties around New York. Mrs. Buchanan is practically the crown jewel of New York society."

It was like Rebecca skin lost all traces of color. She looked like she was in shock as Gatsby introduced her to Tom and Daisy Buchanan. For a moment, Nick thought that she would faint dead at his feet.

They both recognized each other it seemed like it was possible to cut the tension in the air with a knife. Nick didn't know what had happened between Tom and Rebecca, but it couldn't have been good.

"We have indeed met before! How's your sister?" Tom asked as he smiled like a cat that had gotten into the creamer.

Rebecca's spine stiffened at his words, "Which one? I'm not sure which sister you're talking about."

Tom only gave her a smile that was chilly. Rebecca managed to yank her hand away from Tom's tight grasp. Remembering Gatsby's words about keeping Rebecca occupied, Nick offered Rebecca his arm.

"Shall we?" he smiled trying to lighten the mood. Rebecca stared at Tom for a moment longer before taking his arm. She looked pale and uneasy. The grip on his arm was tight like she was holding on for dear life. It made Nick wonder again if Rebecca was going to faint. He covered his hand with hers trying to soothe her and calm her down from whatever she was feeling. Walking at a slower pace behind Tom, Daisy and Gatsby, Nick brushed his thumb back and forth over the soft skin of her hand and the pearl bracelet she wore. It was a simple little thing with a diamond encrusted clasp. He'd seen her wear on more than one occasion. Rebecca had told him once when they were dancing that it had belonged to her sister, Mary, before she'd died. It was one of her most prized possessions.

They suddenly stopped walking and it drew Nick out of his thoughts. He turned to look down at Rebecca who was staring back at him with an almost blank expression.

"Were you with Daisy and Gatsby when she was in the house?" she asked him. "Were you here?"

The air left Nick's lungs. How could she possibly have known that? A small voice in Nick's head urged him to tell the truth. Rebecca would only be angry at him if he lied but he'd promised Gatsby that he'd protect his affair with Daisy. The look on Rebecca's face, however, made him want to spare her as much pain as possible. Gatsby's affair would inflict quite a bit pain to her. Nick couldn't imagine Rebecca not being in pain once she found out about Daisy and Jay. As much as she tried to portray herself as an icy woman who could ignore every slight, hurt and exclusion from her husband, Nick knew Gatsby caused her pain.

"Daisy is my cousin, as you know," Nick said finally. "Gatsby gave us a tour when she came over for tea. He showed us all the new inventions he likes."


	6. V: Over the Love (Part One)

**Part V: Over The Love (Part One)**

 _"...And I don't wanna see what I've done_

 _To undo what has been done_

 _Turn off all the lights_

 _Let morning come..."_

~ "Over the Love" - Florence + the Machine

 **Friday**

 **July 25, 1922**

The night had been long and exhausting.

Nick had returned to the party to try and find Rebecca, but he'd looked high and low. She hadn't been anywhere and even Crawley wore a look of concern. He'd watched the old butler speak with three maids who also wore nervous expression. They'd quickly scattered into the house and party, but an hour later they'd all returned saying they hadn't been able to find Mrs. Gatsby.

Crawley had told him to go on and enjoy the party. The staff would worry about finding Mrs. Gatsby. Even as Nick danced with Daisy, he couldn't help but wonder where Rebecca had gone. Where ever she was, he'd hoped all night long that she was safe. Gatsby had never returned to the party after his departure, but he'd returned later after the party was over and everyone had gone home.

Their conversation about the past angered Nick to no end. Gatsby determination to recreate the life he should have had with Daisy was killing his future. The future that he could have shared with Rebecca was slowly dying a bloody, painful death. Each day it died a little more until Gatsby finally took a knife to it and pierced its heart. The bright, unknown future that Gatsby could have was slipping away with Rebecca and Nick knew that no matter what Gatsby wanted, Daisy would never leave Tom.

He could see his cousin and her husband for what they really were: selfish people who destroyed good people and things. When they finished breaking a person, they slipped away and left that person there to die of sadness. Nick didn't have enough fingers to count how many of Tom's mistresses had died of a broken heart and he didn't care enough to even think about how selfish his cousin was.

Gatsby was snared in Daisy's web and like a black widow spider, she'd bite him and it would kill all the good things in Gatsby's life.

Everything had become a mess and Nick wasn't sure how to fix things, but he knew he had to fix them. Opening his front door, Nick was surprised by the breeze coming into the house. Walking towards the open door in the back of the house, he was assaulted by the smell of alcohol. A shattered glass was on the floor and Rebecca was curled up in a wicker chair staring out at the green light across the bay.

"Party over?" she asked in an emotionless voice.

"Gatsby is probably looking for you," Nick said not knowing what to do as he picked up one of the narrow shoes that Rebecca had kicked off.

"He's not looking for me," Rebecca whispered. "He never is and after tonight...he has other things on his mind."

"You saw him and Daisy," Nick stated. It wasn't a question. He knew that she'd seen them. Why else would she have shown up at his house in the condition that she was in?

"It wasn't that hard," Rebecca sniffled. "He's stared at her all night. God…"

She covered her face and wiped away the tear that had trickle down her cheek.

"What happened?" Nick said as he came to sit down across from her. "Between you and Tom tonight."

"Your cousin-in-law…he…he told my sister Mary that he'd marry her. He promised that he'd marry her and when Mary fell with child…he left her. He abandoned her for your cousin Daisy," Rebecca said tearfully. "He left Mary and she…her son was born and she…killed herself once she found out Tom had married Daisy."

"Does Tom know about his son?" Nick asked quietly as he sat down in shock.

"If he didn't care about the child before he was born, why would Tom Buchanan care now?" Rebecca snapped. "I didn't tell him about the child because that child was all Mary had to live for. I wasn't even going to give him the chance to try and rip the little boy away from his mother."

"Where is he?"

"Thomas…his name is Thomas," she whispered. "My sister even named her child after the bastard. Thomas is now the ward of some family in Cleveland. Forever out of reach because of that man and his shameless actions. I'm sorry to speak ill of him, but your friend is no saint. God only knows how many other children he has born out of wedlock."

"Does Gatsby know that? I don't think he would have had Tom over if he knew the truth," Nick quickly said. "You should tell him."

A tear slipped down Rebecca's cheek and she quickly brushed it away.

"Do you remember how I told you that Gatsby and I was a long story?"

Nick nodded.

"I think you'd better sit down, Nick."

He did and Rebecca cleared her throat.

"Before I ever met Jay Gatsby, I met another man. Tom Buchanan. It was 1918. He was in town at the time and I was with my sister Mary at a party hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Sloan. I was eighteen years old and Mary was seventeen. She was just out in society. It was her first year and the first time she was introduced to Tom Buchanan, she was smitten. She liked everything about him. I should have listened to the voice in my head right at that moment. It had screamed at me that Buchanan was bad news, but I indulged Mary like everyone else around her Nick. Mary was spoiled and wild and…she wanted her independence. Matthew was the only one who could see the train wreck that was bound to happen with my sister. He told me over and over again to tighten the leash on her, but I never listened to him. I always thought that it was a phase she'd outgrow."

"She never did, did she?" Nick said quietly.

"No," Rebecca smiled sadly. "She never did. That first night, she and Buchanan made arrangements to meet later. I didn't know about it until much later. If I had known, God only knows I would have done everything to stop her from going and meeting him."

"What happened between her and Buchanan?"

"She started seeing him in private. Their relationship became sexual and Buchanan promised to marry her someday. He left her a letter with his intentions before he went back to Chicago. Two months after Buchanan left, Mary found out that she was pregnant. I remember that night so well Nick," Rebecca whispered as a tear fell down her cheek. "I remember her crying in my arms and showing me the letters. I remember every word that she said as she finally told me the horrible truth about everything. We both knew that the moment we told our parents that they'd make her leave. They'd cut off all contact with her to try and minimize the outfall from the ensuring scandal."

"And you're parents made her leave?" Nick asked in shock that two parents could treat their child in such a careless manner.

"Yes, I remember the day she got into that car and how she'd turned around and stared at me through that back window. I'd held her the night before all night. Just like that she was gone, Nick. My parents did everything they could to minimize the damage, but the damage was already done. People began talking about Mary's absence and then one of Mary's friends, Victoria Brewster, revealed to one of the biggest gossips in New York what had happened. You can imagine the damage that happened then. Everyone knew that Mary was with child and that she'd left New York. The woman Miss Brewster revealed the story to happen to be the cousin of Tom Buchanan's mother. She kept Tom's name out of the public and let Mary burn."

Rebecca turned to look at Nick as tears fell down her cheeks, "Thank God Mary was already gone. People who were once her friends whispered the cruelest things behind her back and even my own parents spoke ill of Mary. They called her a whore and publicly disowning and disinheriting her. About six months after Mary left, I went to the theater with a family friend. That was the first time I met Jay Gatsby. He was handsome, Nick. He just…came in like a gust of wind and knocked me off my feet."

A far off look crossed her face like she was reliving a distant memory. A soft smile grace her full lips as tears continued to fall. Nick tried to reach out and cover her hand with his, but she moved her hand away from his.

"He was in a black suit with a white vest and bow-tie. His hair was slicked back and in the dim light of the theater he was just like an ethereal being that descended down on me," Rebecca continued softly. "There was something about him Nick that just drew me in. He was…warm and made me feel like I was the only person in the room that mattered to him. He was like the sun and I couldn't help but to be pulled in by the smile and the charm. His words, the way he looked at…everything made me want to know him more. When he asked to call on me the next morning, I said yes without any hesitation. I didn't think about anything else but seeing his smile again. There was something about him. Everyone is drawn into him, Nick. I've always tried to figure out what it is about him that people like but, I don't know what it is."

"Did he call on you?" Nick asked quietly wanting to hear the rest of the story.

"My mother nearly fainted when Jay Gatsby showed up on her doorstep asking for me," Rebecca laughed tearfully. "She did everything that she possibly could to leave us alone. She wanted me to marry Jay Gatsby so badly. It would lessen the damage that Mary had created. I sat in that drawing room with him for hours just talking about nothing. It wasn't hard not to like Gatsby and it was so easy to fall in love with him. He was so sweet. He had this laughter that just made me feel like I was on high when I was able to make him laugh. He used to send two dozen lily flowers every Monday morning for the week. On Friday, he'd always send a dozen roses. Without fail they'd always showed up. He used to go walking with me in Central Park. He took me out once a week to some new place in New York. The opera, the theater, a shop, a tea room, a restaurant...always somewhere new. It wasn't hard not to fall in love with a man like that. It was like a fairy tale. He was everything a woman could ever want. Kind, generous, and he made me feel like I was all he wanted in the world. I should have listened to the rational side of my mind when it told me that no man was as perfect as Gatsby seemed, but the little girl inside of me was enamored with the idea of finally finding my Prince Charming. I truly believed that and when Jay Gatsby proposed to me on that warm April night in that beautifully lighted garden, I stupidly said yes. I should have said no. I should have said no and went running, Nick. I should have gone far, far away."

It shocked Nick to know that Gatsby had once romanced Rebecca. Their marriage was so frost that to know that Gatsby once made Rebecca excited and gave her flowers seemed so out of character. It didn't match with the cold sometimes mean husband that he was to her.

"Gatsby sent you flowers once?" Nick said. "He actually sent you flowers?"

"They were so beautiful," Rebecca told him with a heart breaking smile that quickly disappeared. "They stopped coming after we became engaged. Gatsby stopped coming. The closer it got to our wedding day, the more distance he put between us. I thought he was just nervous. I'd heard so many girls talk about how their grooms had been nervous on their wedding days. I thought he was just like that, but looking back...Gatsby wasn't nervous. He'd done his wooing. I'd agreed to marry him and I guess to him the job was done. All he had to do was make a few appearances here and there to please my parents and let me plan a wedding that supposedly filled my heart with content. I married Gatsby in August 1920. My mother made sure it was the society wedding of the decade. She made absolutely sure that everyone and anyone who mattered was there at the church. I thought about not marrying him one second that day when I'd been waiting for my father and the car to come and collect me. As soon as that thought passed over my mind, I pushed it away. All I could think about was how I'd be leaving him in front of all New York. I believed myself in love with him. I'd never said it to his face, but I believed it. I convinced myself time and time again that he loved me. All of his actions had to mean something. I convinced myself that all the gifts, the smiles, the stupid outings and the special way he made me feel…it all had to be love, Nick. There wasn't any other option. So, that warm August day, I married Jay Gatsby and I got the only kiss I've gotten from him that day. A simple, quick peck on the lips that made the people in that church clap politely and that stupid kiss made me believe that I was in love with him. The questioning was gone and I stupidly became the blushing bride. I fell into the exact role he wanted me to play and I played it well, Nick."

Her voice cracked on the last words as tears fell down her face, "Oh, I stupidly believed myself to be in love with him. The party afterwards passed without any problems. People congratulated us and other women stared at me with envy. We retired from the party around nine and I went with Tilly. My mother had told me all about the wedding night and I was anxious like any other bride would be. I must have sat there for hours. When I finally found Jay, he was sitting in his room with a brandy. That was the first night I learned just how cold he could be. Here I was, this twenty year old bride and as I stood in front of him in my little negligee, Gatsby finally told me the truth. He'd simply married me to help business and my marriage to him eased the scandal my sister had created. He didn't care about me like I cared about him and he banished me from his rooms. I stupidly believed in love like Mary. The only blessing that came from that whole thing was the knowledge that I had never confessed my love to him. I was spared that humiliation. The morning after that disastrous night he came to me at breakfast and explained how I was to change nothing in the house or on the grounds. Everything was the way he wanted it. There are plenty of things about the house I dislike and no matter how much I protested to him, he'd never listen. Gatsby never listens to me. To him, I'm just another wall hanging that can be ignored."

"I'm sorry," Nick said softly. "I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Rebecca asked. "You didn't-"

She stopped as she looked at him. Nick could see that the puzzle was finally coming together in her head and that she understood.

"You brought Daisy to the house," she choked out. "You brought Jay and her together!"

"Jordan Baker told me about how Gatsby had fallen in love with Daisy five years ago in Louisville. She told me about how Gatsby had loved her since then and all he wanted was for me to invite her for tea," Nick told her as he tried to reach out and touch her.

Rebecca jerked away from him and stood up. She hugged the column that was a part of the railing tightly. The look on her face would be forever etched into his mind. She looked like someone dearly beloved to her had just died. Horror mixed with grief crossed her delicate features as she stared at him with hurt in her eyes.

"You…you didn't just bring her over to the manor because she wanted to see the inventions. Gatsby brought you over, didn't he? He wanted her to see the house and everything. Oh, God!"

Nick watched as she sunk down to the floor in tears, "Everything inside was exactly the way he wanted it. I could never figure out why I wasn't allowed to change things. I just thought Gatsby was picky about things. It never occurred to me that it was because of a woman. But now…having seen him and Daisy together…everything makes sense. All his interest in you and all the parties, he was waiting for her from across the bay. He wanted her to come to the perfect house he'd built for her. Now, he wants to play house with her. He loves her, Nick! I can see it in the way he looks at her. I could live with him despising me and everything else, but it's unbearable that he loves her. I could always live a half-life without his love, but I want his love. How could he pick her over me? How could he pick Daisy Buchanan?"

Rebecca's tears turned to sobs as she sat on the floor and hugged herself. Nick had never seen her so upset and he had no idea what to do. He knew from her jerking away earlier that his comfort wasn't welcome. She wouldn't want the man who'd aid her husband's affair to touch her. Running a hand through his hair, Nick felt helpless. It was feeling he was getting used to feeling.

He wasn't sure who to call or what to do. Just as he was about to give up and let Rebecca cry herself to sleep on the floor, Nick heard a knock at the door. Taking one look at Rebecca, Nick quickly ran to the front door and opened it. He'd expected Gatsby or Crawley to be on the porch, but he was shocked to see a different man.

Matthew Spring, Earl of Kettlemore stood on his steps wearing a serious expression on his face.

"Is Rebecca here?" he asked quickly.

Nick nodded and held open the door widely. Matthew entered the house and Tilly followed after him. The Earl was impeccably dressed in a charcoal grey suit with a matching vest. His snow white shirt and dark tie looked shaded in the low light of the hallway.

"I heard about what happened with Gatsby," Matthew said quickly. "How long has Rebecca been here alone?"

"A few hours," Nick said. "Why?"

"Is she drunk?"

"I don't think so. Although, she's a mess."

Matthew pinched the bridge of nose and closed his eyes, "I figure that much. Most women are when they catch their husbands feeling up another woman."

"Daisy," Nick said quietly. "The woman Gatsby was kissing is named Daisy. She's my cousin."

Matthew's eyes flew open and he stared at Nick angrily, "You let your cousin run around kissing married men?"

"Daisy is married. I have no sway over her."

"Isn't this just turning into the perfect little drama," Matthew snapped. "I'm guessing that you were somehow involved in all this. It doesn't matter that she was married. If that woman was your cousin, you had a duty to keep her out of trouble! You didn't have to do anything to bring this stupid affair about, but you did anyway. You practically handed your married cousin to Gatsby on a silver tray."

Nick felt embarrassment and guilt flood through him as he stared back at the angry Earl, "I realize that now."

Matthew looked like he was going to yell at him again for a moment, but the look passed and the Earl turned to look at Tilly.

"Go to Gatsby Manor and get a few things for your mistress. A few days' worth of clothing and be back here in fifteen minutes. If the butler asks what going on, tell him that Mrs. Gatsby will be staying with a family friend for a few days while she gets over her shock. The butler probably knows what happening too, if he's as good as a butler as Rebecca insists he is. A good butler always knows what happening in his household."

Tilly nodded and quickly left the house as Matthew turned back to Nick.

"Where is Rebecca?" he asked.

"The back porch," Nick said quietly as he led the way to the living room. He stopped in the middle of the room and watched as Matthew walked slowly towards the still sobbing Rebecca. He crouched down in front of Rebecca the moment he reached her. Nick watched as Rebecca took one look at Matthew and threw her arms around him.

"Oh, my darling," Matthew said softly as he drew her close to him in his arms. "Everything is going to be alright."

"No, it's not going to be alright. I'm a silly, stupid woman," Rebecca sobbed. "Why? Why did he do that?"

Nick watched as Matthew comforted her as she sobbed harder. Rebecca was barely breathing as she pulled herself away from Matthew and sobbed. She sounded like she was choking as Matthew drew out his handkerchief and dabbed away her tears. Nick took a step back towards the kitchen to leave the two of them alone on the porch as he tried to digest everything that had happened. He wasn't sure how long he'd stood there, but when he took another step back he bumped into a small person behind him.

He turned and caught Tilly before she could fall down onto the couch. The maid looked nervous as she carried a cashmere blanket.

"I spoke with Mr. Crawley earlier Mr. Carraway," she said quickly with her head down, "He and I both agreed that calling Lord Kettlemore was the wisest thing to do. Mr. Gatsby was being detained by Mr. Wolfsheim. I don't think he's who she really wants or needs to see right now. I completed the task Lord Kettlemore asked me. Higgins, his driver has Mrs. Gatsby's things."

"You did the right thing. I don't think she wants to see Gatsby either," Nick whispered as he watched Rebecca curl into herself and cried. Matthew held her tightly against him and gently cupped the back of her head.

Watching her, Nick knew Rebecca been a good, dutiful wife. For years, she'd repressed away pain, anger and sadness. It was like everything was bubbling to the surface and had boiled over in one night. He could hear her over and over again telling Matthew that she was stupid for marrying Gatsby. That everything was her fault and that she just wanted the pain to stop. Nick knew as he stood in his dark living room watching the English Earl comfort a broken woman that he should have stopped Gatsby.

He wished he could rewind time and make so that Mary never met Buchanan. He wished he could make it so that Rebecca never married Gatsby. Deep down, Nick knew that it was a silly fantasy, but he couldn't help but wish it was true.

"I hope she won't be angry that we told Lord Kettlemore what happened," Tilly said quietly. "I know she wouldn't want anyone to see her like this. Especially anyone at the estate, Mr. Carraway. She couldn't bear to see anymore pity in anymore people's eyes. She already hates the looks of pity she gets now. This would only make it worse."

Nick nodded and watched as Matthew stand up in front of Rebecca's huddled form. He gently took her hand and made her stand up as well. He pulled her into his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin as he cradled her close to him. His lips moved as he whispered something softly to her in comfort.

Rebecca's shoulders violently shook as she sobbed. Nick wasn't sure how long they all stood in their places, but eventually Matthew looked up and with a look summoned Tilly to him.

"Go make sure my driver is ready," he told her softly. "I'd like to leave as soon as possible. It's been a long night for everyone."

Tilly nodded and quickly scurried off to do as she was told.

"Should I summon Crawley or one of the footmen from Gatsby's to help?" Nick asked as he watched Matthew detach himself away from Rebecca's exhausted grasp.

"No," Matthew said as he scooped Rebecca up into his arms. Rebecca's head rolled on his shoulder, her forehead rested against his neck. An arm fell limp by her side and the other one rested against her chest. Her form looked like it was light as a feather in Matthew's arms as he carried her with easy. It was her eyes that scared Nick the most. Her expression and eyes were blank...like she'd died.

It was like she barely registered that Matthew had picked her up or what was happening around her. Stepping aside, Nick followed as Matthew easily walked towards the front door of the cottage at a quick pace.

"You're taking her where?"

"I'm taking her to East Egg with me," Matthew said as Tilly held open the front door. "Rebecca will spend the night there at Ashby House."

"And if Gatsby should come looking for her?"

Matthew stopped halfway down the stone path to drive and turned.

"You seem like a competent liar, Mr. Carraway," he said. "I'm sure you'll come up with something."

The way Matthew spoke was calm and collected, but Nick couldn't help but feel like Kettlemore had just slighted him. The driver of Matthew's car opened the back door. Nick watched as Matthew tenderly put Rebecca in his car. Tilly brought with her a soft cashmere blanket that Matthew used to wrap Rebecca up with. She stirred for a moment, but Matthew said something to her. All she did was nod to him and she closed her eyes again. The moment Rebecca was seated and comfortable, Matthew motioned for Tilly to join her mistress in the back of the car. The maid quickly slipped in and the driver closed the door blocking both women from sight.

"She's not going to be able to make it home tonight, Carraway," Matthew finally said as his driver opened the passenger door in the front. "Do you think that all of New York doesn't see how he treats her? For God's sake, Gatsby brought his own mistress to a party and forced his wife to sit next to her. Not to even mention what it must have been like for her in the presence of Tom Buchanan. God only knows how much more of that humiliation will be suffered by her in the coming weeks. Gatsby hasn't done much in the past few years to stop the tongue wagging about him and his wealth or the fact that it's obvious he doesn't exactly like his wife. If I can protect her from the looks of pity everyone gives and the humiliation of her husband's affair for one night, I'll do it. She'll come back to your house sometime tomorrow. Until then, just tell whoever comes looking for her that she's with a friend. Although Mr. Carraway, I doubt anyone will come looking."

Matthew stepped into the front seat of the black Rolls Royce and slammed the door shut. Within a few minutes, the car was moving steadily down Nick's little gravel driveway and into the night.

* * *

 **Saturday**

 **July 26, 1922**

He'd barely slept the night before. Nick tiredly rubbed his eyes as he walked up towards Gatsby House through the path that connected the properties. His mind had been overloaded with information it felt like as he'd laid in bed the night before trying to process everything Rebecca had told him. That she had once fallen in love with Gatsby shocked him.

He'd always just assumed that Gatsby loved her in his own way behind closed doors. At first, he'd though that maybe Gatsby was just aloof around people when Rebecca was with him, but now everything made sense and his guilt multiplied. Cutting up the stone paths to the front of the house, Nick easily spotted Elizabeth Harper walking down the steps of Gatsby Manor. He quickened his pace and managed to get to her car and open the door to the back just before the driver could.

"Mr. Carraway," Miss Harper said coolly.

Nick flinched inside hearing her voice. She must have known that he had something to do with Gatsby's affair. She must have already spoken to Rebecca and Matthew earlier in the morning.

"Miss Harper," he said as he tried to smile. "It's wonderful to see you again."

"Would you ride with me? My driver will bring you home."

"Of course," Nick told her feeling like he owned both Harper sisters something. He climbed in after her and settled back into the spacious seat Rolls Royce. The driver quickly started the car and pulled the car around the large fountain in front of Gatsby Manor and down the winding drive to the gates from Normandy. The moment the gates were all the way opened and the car pulled through, Elizabeth turned to look at Nick. A second later the sound of a hand hitting flesh echoed through the car and Nick felt blinding pain on his left cheek.

"How could you?" Elizabeth angrily demanded. "How can you let that animal and his wife do what they're doing!"

Nick rubbed his cheek from where Elizabeth's hand had hit. It was stinging and he wondered if it would bruise. Judging from the force which Elizabeth had hit him, he wouldn't be surprised if it did. It was nothing less than he deserved.

"She was a friend to you and you left that whore into your house!"

"Daisy is my cousin," Nick defended quietly. "She's not a whore."

"I don't care if she's the Queen of England. She was kissing my brother-in-law!"

"Jay isn't innocent either."

"Oh, I know that! I've known that for years. My sister thinks that no one can see through her fake smile, but everyone can. We've all known for years that she's miserable with that man. The only person she thinks she's able to fool is herself," Elizabeth said heatedly. "After what happened last night, she probably won't even bother to hide her misery anymore. Everyone knows about it already."

Nick blood went cold, "Everyone?"

"Matthew paid off a few of the papers not to release any details," Elizabeth sighed. "He doesn't want Rebecca to suffer anymore humiliation."

"Papers?"

"Nick, this is New York! Everyone will know soon enough. Do you think my sister needs to see her face, name and the news that Gatsby is having an affair splashed across every front page? It will kill her and after last night-"

"What happened last night?" Nick interrupted.

Elizabeth sighed again, "Tilly went to go get a nightgown for Rebecca to change into after her bath. She left and Rebecca locked herself in the dressing room. Not even Matthew could get her to open the door. That's when he sent a letter to me. I was just getting home from a dinner party downtown at Mrs. Banks' house when my butler brought me the letter. I went to Rebecca as quickly as I could. I've already lost one sister and I refuse to lose another."

"I'm sorry about your sister," Nick said quietly. "Rebecca told me what happened."

"Thank you but between the two of us, Mary has ruined everything. She was a stupid, little idiot."

Nick turned and looked at her shocked. He didn't understand what she meant and Elizabeth must have seen his confusion in his face.

"I'm assuming that Rebecca told you everything that happened even Mary's affair with Tom Buchanan?"

"Yes, I'm aware of it."

"You must understand something," Elizabeth said slowly. "I loved my sister. I still love her, but Mary was wild. She never listened and my mother indulged her every desire. Last night, after I got to Ashby Manor it was so quiet in that room, Nick. It was like this dreadful silence surrounded the house. Matthew thought that Rebecca had hurt herself. He kept begging her to answer him and not to do anything irrational while the servants looked for the key to the dressing room. I kept wondering over and over again if I would be burying another sister."

"Is Rebecca alright?" Nick asked worriedly.

Elizabeth looked at him with a sad smile, "She's fine. I think she was so exhausted from everything that she just gave up. We found her curled up asleep on the window seat. Tilly helped her change into a nightgown and Matthew carried her to bed. When I left this morning Matthew had just finished breakfast and was arranging to have a breakfast tray taken up with him for Rebecca."

Nick didn't know what to say. Guilt was pulsing through his veins. He'd started everything and what had happened last night was his fault. Introducing Gatsby and Daisy again had been a mistake. He should have listened to himself when he'd decided to change his mind. Deep down, he'd known all along this would hurt Rebecca but he'd lived in denial that she'd never find out.

Elizabeth was right when she said that secrets in New York didn't stay secrets for long. Soon enough, everyone would know that Gatsby was having an affair. Matthew could only pay off reporters for so long and Nick was sure there wasn't enough money in the world to pay everyone in the city off not to gossip.

"Matthew is a good friend," Nick finally said.

"Friend?" Elizabeth said looking at him incredulously, "Matthew isn't her friend."

It was Nick's turn to look confused as Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Matthew came back for her," she told him. "He didn't come back for anyone but her. The morning of the day we went to hear The Planets was the day Matthew came back from England. You should have heard him, Nick. All he wanted to know about was Rebecca. When I told him that she had married Gatsby, it was heartbreaking to see his face. I know that he's loved her since we were children. If Mary hadn't run off with Tom Buchanan and gotten pregnant, Rebecca would have never married Gatsby."

"You don't know that," Nick insisted.

"Matthew went to fight in the Great War and it nearly broke Rebecca's heart. They wrote to each other almost every day. Matthew warned her again and again to exercise more control on Mary. We all thought that it was just a phase she was going through. We had no idea, but I think Matthew knew this was always going to happen. I remember the day Gatsby came and swept her off her feet, Nick. Matthew never confessed to loving her and I am sure if he had, Rebecca wouldn't have looked twice at Jay Gatsby. If my parents hadn't been so selfish and just hid Mary pregnancy and if Mary had for once kept her mouth shut, I know in my heart of hearts that Matthew would have married her. He would have come back here the moment after the war ended, but there was so much that needed to be rebuilt. If he had come back here like I begged him, Rebecca would be in England now with a child or two maybe. Instead, all she has is an unhappy marriage, a house that is more like a prison and a friend who can't even claim to be a friend," Elizabeth said as she stared at him. "Which future do you think I wanted for her, Mr. Carraway?"


	7. VI: Over the Love (Part Two)

**Part VI: Over the Love (Part Two)**

 _"...Now there's green light in my eyes_

 _And my lover on my mind_

 _And'll sing from the piano, tear my yellow dress_

 _And cry and cry and cry_

 _Over the the love of you..."_

~ "Over the Love" - Florence + the Machine

 **Saturday**

 **July 26, 1922**

Rebecca looked out over the lawn of Ashby House. The blanket that covered her legs was soft under her hands as she laid out in a chaise lounge on the back veranda of Matthew's house.

The large stone terrace was wide and ran the length of the large sixteen bedroom house. Under the umbrella that shaded her, Rebecca was able to look out over the lawns and gardens of the house. For the first time, she was grateful that Matthew's lawns faced away from the bay. She wasn't sure she would be able to look at both Gatsby's manor and Nick's house while holding herself together.

It was torture trying to distract herself while Matthew attended to some pressing business. He'd had a maid bring her breakfast that morning and while she'd eaten, Matthew had told her about the surprise he had in store for her. He promised to show her later, but he'd before he could say anything else he'd been summoned away by a lawyer just after they'd gotten down to the veranda. Matthew had made sure that she was situated and was comfortable before he'd disappeared. It was something she wasn't used to.

Gatsby normally left her without a single word. He never made sure that she was warm enough or that she had a maid with her to get her what she needed. Matthew had a way of always making her feel special. It was a skill both he and Gatsby shared, but the true difference was that Gatsby was a fraud.

A bark interrupted her thoughts and Rebecca looked up as a cream colored lab ran across the grass lawn and up the stone steps. She smiled as the dog came to rest his head on her lap. The dog she remember well because she'd picked him out of a litter almost eight years ago. It had been Matthew's eighteenth birthday and his grandmother had decided to let him pick out a puppy from a litter that one of the grounds keeper's had. At fourteen, Rebecca had been a little awkward around Matthew, but she doubted he ever noticed.

She'd been so nervous about going with him to pick out a puppy. He'd told her that he wanted her help picking one and she'd been so afraid of picking the wrong dog. In the end, Osiris had chosen them. The dog had been the runt of the group and when the other dogs had started trying to bite him, she'd grabbed him and picked him up. The puppy had curled up into her arms and they'd both known then that this was Matthew's dog.

They'd taken the dog with them and had debated for hours over what to name him. Finally, they'd both agreed on Osiris. She could remember playing with the dog, but she hadn't seen him since Matthew had left for war.

"I see he hasn't forgotten you at all."

Rebecca looked over her shoulder and grinned. Matthew was walking back towards her with a hand casually in a pocket.

"I haven't forgotten him either," she said. "I was just reminiscing about the time we got him."

"I remember that day so well," Matthew smiled back at her as he sat down on the edge of the lounger next to her. "I especially remember you yelling at the grounds keeper for letting the dogs bully each other. I don't think I've ever seen a man so frightened of you."

His comment brought a real, genuine laugh to her lips, "I'd forgotten all about that! Did I really yell at him?"

Matthew chuckled as he reached for one of her hands, "Darling, you were the talk of the estate workers for weeks after. They still tease the poor fellow about it to this day."

The moment Matthew's hand touched her it was like the air changed. His hands were warm and soft against hers. She could feel the cool metal of the signet ring he wore on his hand. Her whole body felt like a flame had erupted somewhere inside her and she wanted him to touch more than her hand. She wanted Matthew to caress her body and kiss her lips.

Rebecca wanted to know what happened behind closed doors between a woman and a man. The air was so thick between them that she wondered if he could hear her heart pounding against her ribs. Bringing her hand up to his face, Rebecca gently let her fingertips brush against the smooth skin of his cheek. Matthew jerked away from her and stood up quickly.

Confusion filled her as she watched him move away from the lounge chair. When she'd touch him, she'd felt a feeling unlike anything she'd ever experienced pass through her. It was like something was racing through her body and it had pooled deep down in belly.

Was touching him what she'd done wrong?

She'd never felt something like she'd just experienced and it only made her want to experience it again. The only time she'd felt something remotely close to what Matthew had made her feel had been when Gatsby had pressed a quick kiss to her lips when he'd married her. That kiss had barely lasted a second and had little effect on her but Matthew's touch was something completely different. All he had to do was look at her and she was at his mercy as the coil low in her belly tightened.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked him as she quickly stood up not knowing what to do. "I am so sorry if offended you."

Matthew's grip on the metal railing tightened as she walked towards him slowly.

"Offended me?" he said softly. "No, you haven't offended me. Quite the opposite, Rebecca."

"I don't understand," she replied as she looked at him with a confused expression. "You stood up like I'd burned you."

"Surely you must know the effect you have on men by now," Matthew chuckled, but stopped seeing the confused look on her face deepen.

"Gatsby doesn't…he only ever kissed me when the priest told him too," she told him as she stood next to him, "So, whatever effect you're referring to…I don't know what you're talking about."

Matthew chuckled again as his hand slid closer to hers, "I should have guessed that."

"Yes, well," Rebecca said as she walked past him towards the table of tea and sweets that one of the maids had laid out. "Nothing about me is alluring to anyone. Why do you think he's kissing Daisy Buchanan now? Why do you think he's taking her to his bed when all I've gotten from his is barely a kiss? No man wants me and I am perfectly content with that truth."

"People who say they're content with the truth rarely are," Matthew said to her as he turned to lean back against the railing with his hands in his pockets. "I think you're not at all content with the truth."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said as her spine stiffened.

"Ah, there's the famous Harper tell. You still love him," Matthew told her quietly as he walked to her. "If you didn't love him or even care, you wouldn't have been crying last night."

A tear fell down Rebecca's cheek as she around turned to look at him, "I don't know if I love him or what I should be feeling right now. That's the tragedy of this whole sad story. Despite everything he says and the way he treats me, I've tried to bury the truth for so long that I…I don't even know what feelings are real and what feelings aren't. I don't even know what loving him means anymore. All I know is that I want him to want me. I want him to love me."

Standing there, Rebecca felt softness of Matthew's hand caress her cheek as his other hand slipped out of his pocket. He gently brushed a tear away and cupped her other cheek. He was so close to her that Rebecca could smell his sandalwood and lemon scent. It was the same one she remembered from when he'd been a younger man and their lives had been so different.

His touch brought back the burning feeling inside her again as heat pooled low in her belly. His lips were so close to hers that all she wanted him to do was lean down and kissed her. It would be so simple to lose herself in Matthew and forget about everything. It would be so simple but the image of Gatsby kissing Daisy raced through her mind. Turning her head away from Matthew was the hardest thing to do, but she couldn't kiss him. She couldn't use him to escape her pain.

He deserved more than that. Before Matthew could ask what was wrong, the butler showed up and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, sir," Mr. Murdock said. "Miss Elizabeth Harper is here with a Mr. Nick Carraway."

"Show them out here for tea," Matthew replied as they broke apart and stood on near opposite sides of the sweets table. "I'm sure Mrs. Gatsby would like to speak with her sister."

Murdock nodded and left as Rebecca moved back towards the lounge chair and sank down.

"I'm sorry Matthew," she said quietly. "You're my friend and I shouldn't be telling you...I'm for what just happened."

"Who said I was sorry for what just happened?" he asked her. "Maybe I want you for an entirely different reason. Maybe, I want you because I've always loved you. You can't deny that spark you felt between us. I felt it too, darling Rebecca."

Rebecca felt like that air stopped in her lungs as Matthew stared at her with a soft smile. Elizabeth had always tried to convince her that Matthew was in love with her, but to hear it directly from his lips was something entirely different. The urge to run back across the veranda and throw herself in his arms and kiss him was overwhelming. She'd never felt anything like she felt in that moment with Matthew.

Before she could act on that impulse though, Murdock returned with both Elizabeth and Nick. Something was said, but Rebecca barely recognized it as she sat in shock after hearing Matthew's words. She didn't know what to do but for the for first time in a long she felt like a giddy seventeen year old in the middle of her first love. She didn't feel like a heartbroken wife with an adulterous husband. A smile graced her lips when Matthew sent her a wink from behind Elizabeth's back.

* * *

The car pulled away from Ashby House and Rebecca was silent as she sat next to Nick. She knew that she had to return to Gatsby Manor. There would already be enough of a scandal when the papers learned of Gatsby's affair and her staying with an unmarried man would set the tongues wagging even more. Elizabeth had offered to let her stay with her at Harper Manor while their parents were away out of town. While the offer had been tempting, Rebecca knew she had to return to Gatsby's but leaving Matthew's house had been hard.

She wanted to stay there with him. Inside that house she felt safe and cared for. There wasn't anything Matthew wouldn't do for her and it broke her heart that she had to leave him after what he'd told her. A part of her wished he'd never told her anything about his feelings, but the other part of her was grateful.

At least one man loved her in the world, but it was heartbreak at the same time. She knew that Matthew loved her, but she wasn't sure of her own feelings. He'd always been her dearest friend, but Rebecca knew she couldn't take the road that Matthew offered.

They could never be together.

Even if somehow she managed to leave Gatsby, London would close their doors to her once they found out she was a divorced American socialite. She couldn't put Matthew through that shame and she couldn't live the humiliation.

Sitting in the back of the car, Rebecca wanted to scream at the driver to turn around and take her back to Matthew, but she couldn't. Nothing made sense anymore and it scared her. Every feeling she had experienced was being questioned and it made her wonder if she knew what love even was.

Did she love Gatsby?

Was it even possible for her to love a man like Gatsby?

How could she even care for a man who was cheating on her?

Rebecca knew that her parent's marriage was spotted with affairs on both sides, but she'd had such high hopes for her own marriage. Seeing that it had fallen into the same netting that trapped her parent's marriage made her heart ache, but it didn't surprise her. It was horrible to even think about but Rebecca wondered if Gatsby had been having affairs long before he brought Daisy to their house.

Rebecca could feel a headache coming on as she began to wonder over and over again if she'd ever really loved Gatsby. She'd never felt so confused in her life about her feelings. Her solution had always been to bury the feelings she experienced, but she couldn't do it this time. It was hard to rest her mind as she wondered over and over about Matthew's word and her feeling for Gatsby.

There were no easy answers for her feeling or her heart.

The only thing that she had was a headache and unanswered questions. For the first time in a long time, Rebecca wished her mother was home. She wanted to go to Katherine Harper and beg for advice. Rebecca was sure it wouldn't be the advice she wanted, but it would still feel good to talk to someone who had experience with cheating husbands.

Her father was quietly notorious for his whores and Mrs. Harper had perfected the ability to turn a blind eye years ago. It was an ability that made Rebecca wonder if she had, would it make ignoring Gatsby's affair with Daisy easier to ignore? Nick asked the driver something and it jolted Rebecca out of her thoughts as she turned to look at the man she thought was a friend. Daisy was his cousin and he'd been responsible for setting up the meeting between her and Gatsby.

It hurt inside that he'd played a part in Gatsby's affair but she didn't want to lose his friendship. She'd lost so many people in her life and she kept everyone else at arm's length away. To lose another friend would create an ache in her heart that Rebecca wasn't sure she could manage. The ache that Gatsby created was eating away at her and soon it would overtake her. For all his mistakes, Nick was a good person and she didn't want to lose him too.

* * *

Nick had watched Rebecca the whole drive from East Egg to West Egg. She looked exhausted but there was something in her expression that had hadn't seen before. Confusion was etched into every part of her face and it made him wonder why she was confused. Elizabeth's revelation that Matthew had loved Rebecca since they were children hung over his head as well. It made Nick curious to know if Matthew would take this opportunity to swoop in and sweep Rebecca off her feet.

He'd always be loyal to Gatsby, but he knew his cousin Daisy well. There wasn't a chance that she'd leave Tom for Gatsby. If Nick had learned anything about Rebecca it was that she was a tolerant woman, but even tolerant women had their breaking points and Nick wondered how close Rebecca was to breaking. Gatsby was pushing his own wife into the arms of another man. Even if no one saw it now, Nick could. It was as simple in his mind. Rebecca was an ignored and neglected wife who was starved for love and attention.

All Matthew had to do was tell her that he loved her and she'd easily fall into his arms especially when the English Earl's feelings were genuine. To anyone, Matthew's feelings weren't hard to see at all. Ten minutes in Earl's presence with Rebecca present and Nick could tell that the man loved her. While Gatsby seduced Daisy and tried to convince her to leave Tom, the English Earl would get Rebecca and Nick was sure that any chances Gatsby had of ever winning his wife back would be gone.

To Rebecca, Gatsby and Matthew were like night and day. He wondered if given the chance, would Rebecca leave Gatsby heartbroken after Daisy refused to leave Tom? No matter what happened in the end, someone was going to end up with a broken heart in the mammoth love pentagon that was forming in New York.

"What are you going to do?" he asked as the car finally pulled up in front of the large stone steps that led up to the grand front doors of Gatsby Manor. Rebecca stared in front of her and Nick noted again how tired she looked.

"In the words of my mother, I'll endure," she said quietly as Brighton opened the door. "Have a good day, Mr. Carraway."

Nick watched as she slowly walked up the steps. Slipping out of the back seat, Nick shook his head as Crawley and two footmen held the front double doors open and waited for her. Tilly followed her up the steps and once Rebecca had reached the top of the steps, Crawley spoke to her in a hushed voice. She nodded to something and walked into house with Tilly stopping to exchange words with Mr. Crawley. Gatsby was nowhere in sight and it angered Nick.

Didn't Gatsby care where his wife had been last night?

Did it bother him that he was already driving her into the arms of another man who could easily steal her away and take her an ocean away?

The driver closed the door behind him and Nick turned. Walking back towards his little cottage was simple, but each step felt like it took all the strength he had to complete it. Nick wasn't sure how to help Rebecca but he knew he had to. She'd trusted him and he'd failed her. He had to do something to fix the mistakes he'd made and if he was the last thing he ever did, he'd do it.

* * *

 **Wednesday**

 **July 30, 1922**

Rebecca quickly descended the grand staircase and made her way to the front door. Wolfsheim had called her asking for her to meet him at a restaurant downtown for lunch. Apparently, he had some information for her regarding their plans for Buchanan and they couldn't speak over the phone. It had to be in person, but Rebecca didn't care. She needed to get out of the house.

The images of Gatsby kissing Daisy were haunting her and it was killing her inside to see them over and over again in her mind. There wasn't anyone she could go to for help and it made her heart ache inside all over again. Tilly met her in the entrance hall with her gloves, hat, and clutch. Quickly getting ready, Rebecca took one look in the mirror and with a deep breath walked towards the doors as two footmen opened them. The person standing on the other side of the doors nearly made Rebecca faint. Daisy Buchanan stood on the steps without a care in the world as Rebecca felt her heart nearly drop out of her chest.

"Mrs. Buchanan," she said managing to keep her voice even. "Is there anything you need? I can't imagine why you're here."

Before Daisy could reply, Gatsby appeared. Without a word, he grabbed a hold of her arm tightly. Rebecca winced feeling his iron grip on her arm. He softly told Daisy to go inside and he'd join her in a minute. Daisy quickly stepped around them and the moment she disappeared around the corner, Gatsby turned to look at her with an icy cold glare. It was an expression that Gatsby had only ever worn a handful of times when he was truly angry.

It sent a shiver down Rebecca's spine as he quickly dragged her through the front door way and down the steps. His steps were so quick that she nearly fell over her feet trying to keep up. His fingers dug into her skin and they reached the car well before Brighton did.

"You do not talk to her," Gatsby hissed as he held her close to him and squeezed her arm tighter.

"You're hurting me," Rebecca snapped and Gatsby let go of her arm. She rubbed her arm where his hand had been and she was sure that there would be a bruise soon enough.

"You are not to say one word to her," Gatsby said again as he pointed his finger in her face. "Am I clear?"

Rebecca didn't say anything, but nodded.

"Good. You aren't to even mention having seen Daisy here. You're to go about your business. Don't say a word or it will be your last, Ice Princess."

Without another word, Gatsby stuck his hands in his pockets and quickly walked back up the steps to the manor leaving her reeling from the threat he'd just delivered. It sent a chill down her spine because she wondered if Gatsby had truly just threatened to hurt her or if he'd simply been speaking words.

Would Gatsby actually hurt her?

The thought drove her wild with fear. Gatsby had always ignored her, but with Daisy now in the picture, she wouldn't put anything past him. Love made people do irrational things and she could easily see Gatsby doing something irrational for Daisy. The thought made her shiver again.

"Mrs. Gatsby," Brighton said gently as he held open the car door for her. "Would you like help getting in?"

Rebecca nearly jumped hearing her driver speak. She looked down at his outstretched hand and nodded. Brighton quickly helped her in and once she'd settled in the back of the car, he closed the door. The car started and moved a few minutes later and turning back, Rebecca stared at the mansion Gatsby had built as horror pooled in her stomach.

Daisy was in that house again and the idea of Daisy and Gatsby together made her nearly sick. The image of them kissing replayed again in her mind. It was all she could do not to be sick as Gatsby words rung in her ears. As the car passed through the large gates, Rebecca couldn't stop the few tears that fell down her cheeks. He'd called her the name so many people called her behind her back, Ice Princess. Gossip columnist loved to write about her icy heart. His words hurt because they weren't true.

It was cruel name that she'd been given and people taunted her with behind her back. It was because of him that that she that name anyways. She'd blocked off her heart from him and she'd done her best to put away all her feelings. Gatsby had created her icy heart. She'd been so cold inside for so long that she'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be alive.

A thought passed through her mind at that moment and Rebecca knew that she needed to go see Matthew after seeing Wolfsheim. She didn't know why she wanted to see him but he could make her feel something no one else could. He erased the numb, cold feelings inside her and his warmth soothed the ache inside her heart. Turning back to look ahead, Rebecca knew that by going to Matthew she'd only confuse her feelings more. She could never be with Matthew and he could only lead to more heartbreak. A loud voice in her head told her not to go. Getting involved with Matthew was a horrible idea, but softer voice told her that Matthew would be leaving for England soon. She had some time to be with him and if she wanted to feel alive even for a little bit once in her short miserable life, now was the time to act.

The consequences could be damned.

Just once in her life she was going to do what she wanted to do and not think about anyone else but herself. If Gatsby and Mary could go after what they wanted, she would too. Even if it killed her.

"We'll have lemonade," Wolfsheim smiled at the waiter as he handed back the list of drink options. "That will be all."

"What did you need?" Rebecca asked quietly as she looked down at her napkin. Her mind raced with anxiety as she tried to imagine just what exactly Daisy and Gatsby were doing in her home. She kept trying not to think about them together, but Rebecca felt sick to her stomach as she looked up at Wolfsheim. She hoped that he couldn't see something was wrong. Her nerves were stretched too thin between everything going on in her life. She wasn't even sure she'd be able to drink the lemonade Wolfsheim had just ordered.

"I think this will be far easier than either of us thought," he smiled. "Getting Buchanan to gamble away his fortune is possible. You were right. He's a cocky, arrogant son of a bitch."

"I thought we were just going for the house and you would take the profits earned from the game?"

"Why buy the milk when you can buy the cow? You can have the house. I want to destroy Buchanan and make him hurt. My sister's death broke my mother's heart. She didn't die from a fever. She died from a broken heart and I want him to suffer and hurt just like everyone else he's ever touched has."

"Are you going to kill Tom Buchanan?" Rebecca whispered, not knowing if she wanted to know the truth.

"No," Wolfsheim grinned. "I'll just make him wish he was dead. Just watch."

That cold feeling came over Rebecca again as the waiter returned with their lemonade. Would Gatsby someday figure out her role in Buchanan's downfall? If something happened to Daisy because of Wolfsheim, would he go after her? She felt scared of Jay Gatsby again for a brief moment. He looked at Daisy like everyone woman wanted to be looked at and she'd seen his anger. Coupled together, would Gatsby physically hurt her if something went wrong? Would he physically hurt for what she'd done already? Gatsby didn't seem like the kind of man that hit women, but in truth Rebecca knew very little about Gatsby. He'd threatened her once where Daisy was concerned. What was stopping him from carrying through on that threat once he found out the truth?

"Are you alright?"

Wolfsheim's voice startled her and Rebecca looked up at him.

"You look pale," he said with concern. "Are you feeling alright? You look sick."

"You cannot tell Jay about any of this, Meyer. He'll probably kill me," she replied as she stood up and left the table. "Excuse me, I don't feel well."

Rebecca walked quickly through the crowds of people and found Brighton parked where she'd left him. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she felt faint. Brighton looked at her with concern, but said nothing to her as she reached the car.

"Where to Mrs. Gatsby?" Brighton asked as he helped her into the car.

"Ashby House in East Egg," Rebecca told him breathlessly as she settled in the back. The door was closed and she looked out the window as Brighton pulled the car into traffic and towards the Valley of Ashes. Her whole body felt like she was going to explode from anxiety. She didn't know what Matthew was going to say once she told him what she needed to tell him, but she needed him anyways because he was the only person who made her feel safe. He was the one person who could make her forget about the world and that's what she needed to do.

The city disappeared as she watched out her window. The Valley of Ashes disappeared behind them too. They passed through West Egg to East Egg. Her heart began to pound in her chest as the familiar sight of Ashby House appeared through the trees. Brighton pulled the car through the circle drive and stopped in front of the house.

A footman dressed in a forest green jacket opened her door as Murdock appeared before her with his hands clasped behind his back in a familiar position that reminded her of Crawley.

"Mrs. Gatsby," the butler said. "Shall I announce you to Lord Kettlemore?"

"No," Rebecca said quickly. "I'll announce myself. Where is Lord Kettlemore?"

"The library, ma'am, in the south corner on the second floor of the house," Murdock told her.

She didn't bother to say another word as she quickly went up the stairs and walked towards the library. She vaguely remembered it from her childhood and she found it with ease. Rebecca didn't bother to knock as she opened the door to the library.

Matthew looked up at her from where he was sitting by a sunny window reading a book in a leather wing backed chair.

"Rebecca? What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"No, nothing is alright. I need to talk to you," she said quickly. "I know that you love me and I'm so sorry that things can never work between us. You and I both know that if somehow I managed to divorce Gatsby, it would be a scandal and my family cannot take another scandal. Not after everything that has happened with Mary. London would close their doors to me the minute they knew about Mary. Besides, we both know those American heiresses aren't treated well over in England. Despite those things, I would have a waited a lifetime for you if I had known that you loved me. I would have waited for you to come back and I'm so sorry I didn't, Matthew."

"You didn't know," Matthew replied softly as he stood up and walked to her. He gently cupped her cheeks and smiled tenderly.

"I never should have waited to tell you," he told her. "I should have made my feelings known and I didn't. The fault is mine, darling. Don't ever blame yourself, my darling."

"I don't want to use you to forget about Gatsby and Daisy," Rebecca told him as she looked up at him. "I want you because only you can teach me what it means to feel, Matthew. I've had an icy heart for so long and I want to know what it feels like to be loved. Please, teach me what it means to love and be love. I don't want to be cold and alone anymore. I want to feel alive and I want to feel alive with you. I want you so very much…please…"

It happened before either of them could think and Rebecca didn't care what she became when it happened. Matthew's lips gently touched hers and the warmth of his lips and body warmed her insides. Rebecca last thought as she closed her eyes and let Matthew take her over was that nothing would ever be the same again.


	8. VII: Together

**Part VII: Together**

 _"...You said you don't have to speak_

 _I can hear you_

 _I can't feel all things you've ever felt before_

 _I said it's been a long time_

 _Since someone looked at me that way_

 _It's like you knew me_

 _And all the things I couldn't say..."_

"Together" - The xx

 **Saturday**

 **September 6, 1922**

It was like watching a flower die.

Nick watched Rebecca as she stood in the entry hall of Gatsby Manor. Tilly was helping her with her gloves and hat. They both knew that Daisy would be at the house soon and neither of them could bear to see her. Nick hadn't been able to look Daisy in the eye since she'd started the whole affair with Gatsby. He was sure Rebecca wasn't able to look at the woman keeping her husband's bed warm at night either.

Nick didn't blame her for it.

No, he blamed himself instead for everything that was happening. Gatsby hadn't completely kicked Rebecca out of the manor, but he demanded she leave when Daisy was coming. If Daisy wasn't there, Gatsby wanted her out of his sight and that meant Rebecca was usually confined to her apartments.

Nick had tried to reason with Gatsby but he wouldn't listen. The man was so hell bent on being with Daisy that he couldn't see the dying flower in front of him. If it wasn't for Matthew Spring, Nick wondered if Rebecca would still be alive. Ashby Manor had become her sanctuary in ways that Nick couldn't even begin to understand. When Gatsby forced her to leave her own home, Ashby was the first place she went and Nick knew why.

He'd seen the looks between Rebecca and Matthew. He'd seen how Matthew's hand would brush over hers and he'd seen them sitting far too close together on plenty occasions. Matthew Spring was far quieter about what was happening with Rebecca than Gatsby was with Daisy. Nick wasn't sure if they were sleeping together or not but, it was obvious that they had feelings for each other. When Rebecca was at Ashby Manor it was like she bloomed again.

He'd never seen her smile like she did when Matthew was around. Something inside her came out and she had a glow about her that Nick had never seen in all the time he'd known her. Being at Ashby House so often, Nick had become close with Elizabeth. She'd told him that Rebecca had once been lively and full of laughter before becoming Mrs. Gatsby. Intentionally or not, Gatsby had done his best to extinguish the light inside her. Matthew was the only thing keeping that light alive until Rebecca could keep it alive for herself.

Rebecca took a look in the mirror and nodded once at Tilly before she turned to look at him. She was pretty in a soft grey coat that went to her knees. Her hair was pulled back in an elegant bun and the netting from her hat covered part of her face.

"Are you staying to see your cousin?" she asked him. Nick doubted that Rebecca was even able to say 'Daisy' or 'Mrs. Buchanan'. Even he had a hard time saying them. The words felt like acid on his tongue. Walking towards the door, Nick nodded to one of the footmen to get his coat and gloves as Rebecca watched him.

"I was only teasing Nick," she said softly. "I know that she is your cousin. I don't want to cause a rift in your family. You don't have to come with me to Ashby. I will be fine on my own, I promise."

Nick smiled, "I want to go. Trust me when I say that I'd rather be at Ashby House than here at Gatsby's."

Rebecca smiled back gently at him, but it didn't quite reach her hollow eyes. The delicate features of her face were sharper and her clothing hung on her slender frame. She'd been steadily losing weight since the night Matthew had come to get her at his cottage. Everything had been stressful since then and Nick had seen plenty of reporters and photographers following her every step. They stuck their cameras and notebooks in her face demanding to know things about her and Gatsby. Matthew had done everything he could to keep the affair out of the papers. However, the glittering parties Gatsby hosted were now over and people wanted to know why.

There had been plenty of times Nick had used himself as a body shield for Rebecca. Even Brighton had and it had resulted in him being bruised on multiple occasions. Security around the ground and house had increased, but Nick suspected that it was only for Daisy's benefit. Gatsby did nothing for Rebecca as she was hounded by New York for answers. It had been Matthew that had assigned a few of his own footmen to following her once she left Gatsby grounds. All Tilly had to do was call Ashby House letting the butler there know that Rebecca was leaving and Matthew's men would meet them at the location Rebecca was heading to.

Nick slipped his coat on with Crawley's help and watched Rebecca as she stared at the doors. An unreadable expression was on her face, but her shoulders were stiff. When she turned back to look at him, Nick could see the anxiety in her eyes. She wanted to leave sooner rather than later. Rebecca avoided both Tom and Daisy Buchanan like the plague. He had begun to avoid his cousin and her husband. Being in their presence made him feel a little sick and for the first time in a long time, Nick could see both of them for what they really were.

"The car is outside, ma'am," Crawley said. "When shall we expect you back?"

"Not tonight," Rebecca smiled at the older man. "I'm staying with my sister and helping her pick out furniture for the new rooms in my parent's house. I will be back sometime tomorrow."

Crawley nodded and Nick watched Rebecca wondering what exactly she was planning.

* * *

It was hours later and Nick watched from the library window as Matthew stopped walking on the gravel path. He playfully reached for her hand and whatever he said made her laugh. She fell into him and he wrapped his arms around her with a smile. Seeing them both together wasn't something Nick was used to and he felt his own anger at Mary Harper simmer underneath his skin.

Maybe Elizabeth had been right.

If Mary hadn't acted selfishly, would Matthew have married Rebecca instead?

There were so many what ifs swirling in his mind that he barely noticed when Elizabeth entered the library and sat down on the leather wing backed chair next to him.

"They make a pretty pair don't they?"

Nick nearly jumped and looked down at the youngest Harper sister. She stared up at him expectantly before standing up and walking towards a wall of books.

"I don't think I've ever seen Matthew smile as much as he has been, Rebecca too for that matter," Elizabeth sighed. "My mother always said marry the older men so they die quickly. Pity Gatsby is in such superb health."

Nick's eyebrows shot up, "You wish your brother-in-law was dead?"

"No," Elizabeth replied with the wave of her hand. "I wish he'd never met Rebecca or that he was twice her age. I even wish that the Gatsby I remember returned. I never imagined that things would end up like they are. It's a true pity because Matthew will be gone in a year…maybe two."

"Why will he be gone?"

"He's an Earl, Mr. Carraway, or did you forget? His estate, Highland Court, is one of the wealthiest estates in all of England if not the United Kingdom. Matthew is so modest, but how do you think he has all the money to buy off the newspapers from printing anything about Gatsby's affair? He'll return to England eventually. He can't be away for long. His mother, no matter how much she loves Rebecca, will throw a fit if he's gone too long. She kept talking about heirs and I think Matthew needed a break. Not to mention, he came back here for Rebecca."

"He was hoping to marry Rebecca and have children?"

"That's the thing," Elizabeth sighed. "Matthew can't have a children. A doctor in London confirmed it as did a doctor here in New York. He was hoping that Rebecca would marry him anyway. The dowager countess doesn't know about his infertility. I don't know what he's going to do, but he's heartbroken about it. He would make such wonderful father."

"Will he go back to England and find a bride?" Nick asked as he sat down in the library chair that Elizabeth had been sitting in minutes before.

"No. Matthew told me he refuses to marry anyone but Rebecca. The estate he owns is not entailed on anyone. He's the last of the Spring family. He's spoken with a lawyer here in New York and one in London. When he dies the estate will pass to Rebecca. Should she die before him, the estate is reverted to me. Either way, Matthew will make it so that Rebecca will never have to worry about having a place to live or money. He told he might not be able to marry her, but he will provide for her none the less. It's quite romantic really."

Nick took a moment to absorb everything that Elizabeth had told him and was shocked. It wasn't possible to doubt Matthew's love for Rebecca in any capacity. The man was leaving everything he owned to her when he died. It was shocking.

"What about the title?" he asked.

"The title goes to Rebecca's son," Elizabeth said as she picked up a book. "Granted, the boy will have to take on Matthew's last name. He'll be educated and such in England, but I think Matthew wants to make sure that he can still make a right and proper Earl from his grave. You and I know that Rebecca's children will be right and proper. She won't raise any Tom Buchanan characters. She's too sweet and kind. Her and Matthew's personalities are so similar. I can only imagine that her children will be like him. God willing she has any children. Any more questions?"

A teasing smile crossed Elizabeth's face as she looked at him. Nick couldn't help but to smile back at her. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and slowly walked towards her.

"How exactly do you know all these things?"

"A lady never reveals her secrets," Elizabeth teased. "Now, it too nice to be indoors. What do you say to a game out on the lawns? I'm sure that we can drag Matthew and Rebecca away from each other for a little while to play something."

Nick nodded with a smile in agreement. He was surprised when Elizabeth Harper's soft, delicate hand grabbed his wrist and she laughingly pulled him out of the library.

* * *

 **Sunday**

 **September 7, 1922**

Rebecca couldn't sleep.

She'd tossed and turned all night and now as she looked at the clock that read it was a little after three, she sighed. The whole day had been wonderful. Being with Matthew had made her heart ache and fly at the same time. He was torturous sometimes because it felt like life was giving her a glance at what could have been. Her world would have been so different if Matthew had just told her he loved her before he'd gone off for war, but she'd been fifteen at the time and so young.

Finally pushing back the plush covers from the guest bed, Rebecca let herself sit on the side of the bed and stare out across the bay. The light from Gatsby's dock shown like a beacon in the night and it taunted her. It was the white light, entrancing her and beckoning her to come towards it. The white light had resulted in nothing but pain and Rebecca was sure that if she went back towards Gatsby, back towards that light, it would burn her.

The past couldn't be undone and the memories couldn't be erased from her mind. Gatsby had created a canyon between them and no matter how much she'd tried to stop it early in their marriage, she hadn't been able to build a bridge between them. She could remember ever harsh word and icy glare he gave. She could remember all the hurts and the many lonely nights she'd spent alone in the music room. The painful ache that had gone away for the few hours she had been with Matthew returned. Rebecca stood up slowly from bed and grabbed the thin lace robe that Tilly had brought over.

She needed to walk or get a book from the library. Anything to take her mind off the thoughts in her head and it almost made Rebecca laugh. Even from across the bay, Gatsby had a way of haunting her.

Standing up, she felt the cool wood floors beneath her bare feet. Tying the sash around her waist into a bow, Rebecca walked towards the doors. Slipping out into the hall and letting the moonlight from the windows guide her around the house, Rebecca found the library with ease. The book she'd been reading earlier was still sitting on a small circular table by the window. Grabbing it, Rebecca began to retreat back towards her room, but stopped when she spied Matthew in his study all alone. He was pacing the room as he read a letter of some kind and it made her smile. He was handsome and she couldn't ignore the butterflies in her stomach. The bow-tie he'd been wearing earlier in the evening was gone along with the suit jacket and vest. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his forearms and his suspenders had been pushed off his shoulders. The hung limply at his sides and the combed back hair that had been perfect earlier in the morning was beginning to fall in his eyes. Goosebumps covered Rebecca's skin and she wasn't sure if it was the chill in the air or if it was from Matthew.

The icy floors stung her feet and when she shifted her weight, the floor creaked. Matthew's head jerked up and his eyes met hers as she stood in the doorway watching him.

"Spying, darling?" he asked with a smile. "I thought you'd outgrown that habit."

His words brought a smile to her own lips as she held up her book.

"I came to get something to read. I can't sleep," she told him as she stepped into the study. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"A letter from my mother arrived," Matthew said. "I haven't read it since it was delivered two days ago. I figured that I'd just get it over with."

"Is it as bad as you thought it would be?"

"Worse,"he smiled. "She seems to forget that in a few months I'll be thirty."

"It's hard to imagine you as thirty. I still can't get the sixteen year old boy out of my head. It's like every year you become more handsome," she whispered. "It's your smile that always captivates me. Even as a young girl your smile had a way of making my heart race like the horses at the Kentucky Derby."

Matthew was silent as he walked towards her. There was a look in his eyes that she vaguely recognized as desire. Before she could think anything on it, Matthew lips were against hers and she felt the familiar warmth his touch gave her spread through her veins like wild fire. The book easily fell from her finger tips to the floor, but Rebecca barely noticed.

Just feeling Matthew touching her was all she needed. In the past weeks, they'd stolen so many kisses from each other. Nothing, however, compared to the way he was kissing her in that moment.

His lips were firm, but gentle against hers. His hands tightly gripped her hips. The kiss lasted for a moment and when Matthew pulled back, Rebecca looked at him for only a moment before he took her hand. He walked her slowly from the study and through the house. They stopped at a door and Rebecca knew what lay beyond it.

"All you have to do is tell me no and I'll walk you back to your room," he told her softly with his hand on the door knob.

Rebecca looked up and him. She quickly popped to the tips of her toes. Her lips press against his with gentle pressure and there was no turning back. They were quickly through the door that went to his bedroom and Matthew swiftly kicked off his shoes. The belt that was around Rebecca waist was quickly undone and the robe was quickly tossed aside revealing the creamy silk nightgown that she'd worn to bed. The thin straps went over her shoulders and the hem went to the floor. As they stumbled towards the large bed in a passionate flurry of desperate kisses and searching hands, Rebecca could feel Matthew's hands touching her through the thin fabric of the night gown and it only made her burn more. She didn't care about anything else but being with Matthew.

Her arms went around Matthew's neck as he wrapped an arm around her waist. He quickly lifted her up and they both fell back into the cool blankets of the bed. Matthew's lips never left her as his warm, hard body covered hers. It was like being wrapped up in one warm blanket as her own body warmed to his. Her heart was pounding in her chest again as Matthew's hand trailed up the outside of her thigh. His lips lefts hers as he kissed every inch of skin he could reach. Her fingers delving into his hair as his nipped at a particular part of her neck that they both knew would drive her mad with desire. Rebecca gave a soft moan as she arched against him. Her head fell back into the pillows as his lips returned to her with a deeper kiss than ever before. She began tugging his shirt out of his trousers and teasing her hands under to his skin beneath. It was warm as soft and it only made her desire to touch all of him multiple tenfold.

With sudden determination, Rebecca pushed gently at Matthew's shoulders. It took effort to part her lips from his. He leaned on his elbows and gazed down at her breathlessly and she could see the passion in his eyes that was reflected in hers. Even just looking at him, she could feel his lips on hers. Rebecca's eyes never left his as she reached up and slowly undid each button of his shirt. Each moment that passed as she took her time only added to her excitement and she bit her bottom lip. Her fingers tips ran down and brush the fair hair of his chest that had been lying underneath the snow white shirt. All the while, Matthew watched her and she ran her palms slowly over his chest. Her soft hands traveled over his chest and up to his shoulders. Her fingertips brushed over his neck until her hands reach his face. She cupped his cheeks as her thumbs tracing over his cheek bones.

"Matthew…" Rebecca whispered before she leaned up and placed a single kiss to his lips. His lips lingered against hers for a moment before she sank back down in the cool sheets and pillows of the bed. Her fingers clutched the panels of Matthew's shirt as she pulled him down with her. Rebecca threaded her fingers back into his hair as he sucked lightly at her bottom lip. When oxygen became a must, she pulled back. Her eyes met his eyes and she could see the question he was asking her in them. He'd always let her control how far their kisses went and she knew that even if she asked him to leave, Matthew would let her. Rebecca also knew that she wanted him and she couldn't stop him even if she wanted to.

In truth, she didn't want him to stop.

She wanted all of him and she wanted to be one with him. She trusted him with her life and knew that he'd never hurt her. He loved her far too much to do that and she'd grown to love him too. This was right and it was what she wanted more than anything. They were so close that Rebecca could have brushed her lips brushed against his. His warm breath tickled her as she brushed her nose against his softly. She simply nodded to him and it was all encouragement he needed.

His eyes darkened as his gaze lingered on her body. His lips met her in a heated frenzy and she gave herself up to him. His lips brushed over hers as they sank into the powerful feeling that existed between them. Her low moan reverberated into his mouth, and he deepened his kiss even more if it was possible. Rebecca eyes closed as she relished the taste of his on her lips and the way his body molded perfectly to hers.

Caressing greedily and learning each place that had not yet been known to each other was all she could think about. Matthew undressed her, slowly. He relished each part of newly revealed skin with kisses and caresses that made her shiver against him. His hands touched her body as he pushed up her nightgown higher and higher until Rebecca moved to help him take it off. She couldn't help the blush that crossed her cheeks as Matthew gazed down at her naked form. It was the first time that any man had seen her like she was.

When he groaned aloud at the sight of her, Rebecca bit her bottom lip in nervous anticipation. She froze when his hand moved towards her chest. She felt her breath catch in her throat and goose bumps cover her skin as the back of Matthew's knuckles drifted like a feather across her chest bone and down over the taunt, flat skin of her stomach. His hand grasped her hips before they both released a breath. His hands stroked her skin again as they moved back up towards her chest and when his palm slid to cover her breasts. Her lips parted in a silent gasp, her eyes fluttered shut as she lost herself to his touch, desire pulsing quickly through her veins.

Instinctively, she knew she wanted something, but she wasn't sure what. Her hands crept up to Matthew's cheeks again and she pulled him into a passionate kiss that made her toes curl. She moaned softly against his lips in protest when he dragged them away down her chin, though it was lost in a strangled moan as one of his hands was replaced by his mouth. Her back arched as something akin to electricity pulsed through her veins. All Rebecca could think about was getting herself closer to the moist heat of his tongue which was stroking her hard nipple. His lips suckled and teased her skin as her whole body shook with unrestrained pleasure. Warmth pooled in her belly as her body began to take on a life of its own in response to the pleasure Matthew was causing.

Matthew's hands and lips continued on and on. He worshiped both her breasts equally and when Rebecca thought she would burst with pleasure, he stopped leaving her crying out in protest. A smile crossed Matthew's lips briefly before he began trailing his lips and tongue down her abdomen. His hands brushed over her bare hips and down. His fingertips traveled slowly over her skin leaving goose bumps in their wake as Matthew's warm touch and the cool night air battled for dominance.

Everywhere his fingertips went, his lips and tongue followed. They made a path with searing, hot kisses. Down over her thighs and all the way to her toes was his path. The pleasurable feeling came rushing back harder than before when Matthew had been touching her breasts. Soft moans escaped her throat and Rebecca wasn't even sure she could breathe when Matthew's hands and lips returned her hips. He kissed her soft skin tenderly as she tangled her fingers in his hair and arched her back.

Her fingers grasped his shoulders tugged at his shirt as the raging fire between them quickly turned into an inferno of white, hot heat. Matthew pulled himself up, up to meet her lips in a hurried, desperate kiss that left them both breathless and desiring more. She pushed his shirt down his arms and Matthew tossed it away as Rebecca blindly reached for the button on his pants. She fumbled with only a moment before she managed to undo it. His trousers came off quickly and were kicked away. Everything was off and Rebecca could feel him. His hot body pressed against hers and his hardness against her thigh. The room suddenly didn't feel cool anymore.

Instead, everything felt like it was on fire from the tips of her toes to the delicious, raging inferno between her legs where she ached to be touched. Matthew kissed her again as he shifted. He settled himself between her legs which had easily fallen open to him. There was no going back and Rebecca didn't want to even consider it. She'd heard the horror stories from other women about their first times, but she trusted Matthew. He wouldn't hurt her and everything he'd done so far had left her wanton and desperate for more.

Matthew's hands slipped between them and when he brushed over her womanly folds, Rebecca tensed. It wasn't from pain nor fear, it was the hot pleasure she felt as his fingers touched her wetness. She wasn't sure how it'd happened or when, but she didn't care. Matthew's thumb brushed against her bundle of nerves and Rebecca couldn't help how her hips arched or the gasping breath she'd took. She closed her eyes as he thumb moved over that singular spot over and over again. The coil low in her belly tightened and just when Rebecca felt like every muscle in her body was going to constrict, Matthew stopped and left her crying out in protest again. He chuckled as she opened her eyes and glared at him. Before she could say anything biting to him, Matthew quickly took hold of himself and guided his hard shaft forwards. He quickly found her warmth as Rebecca tensed.

"Relax," Matthew breathed to her. "I can't promise it won't hurt this one time. Just relax, everything will be easier if you just relax and listen to your body."

With that, he slowly slid into her. It wasn't as painful as she thought it would be. The pain only lasted a second and then was slowly replaced by different feelings. Matthew had stopped moving once he'd pressed himself all the way into her and when she shifting her hips to accommodate him further, he gave a loud moan of pleasure. Her shifting her hips was all it took for Matthew to start moving his own hips in as steady rhythm. They began to move together, slowly at first. Both unsure as the grasped at each new rush of pleasure until their bodies found the right tempo.

Rebecca's eyes rolled back as her senses took everything in. Their bodies were molding together and everything was heat, and sweat, and skin. Matthew's lips dipped to her neck where he could feel her pulse quickening under his tongue and where he could taste the sweetness of her soft skin. Every part of her body was overwhelmed and never before had Rebecca felt like every nerve ending could be touched.

Every movement, every thrust that drove him deeper within her brought her closer and closer to the cliff of pleasure. She gasped his name over and over again like a prayer as he moaned softly against her skin. It was as if they were claiming each other and Rebecca welcomed each gasp, moan, pant and touch with eagerness. Her hands sought out the silky, slick skin of his back, shoulders and hips as pressing her grasped at something to hold. She could feel his broad muscles shift under the skin as he thrust against her and it fascinated her.

Rebecca hooked her legs over his hips in a desperate effort to draw him impossibly nearer as her heels rested on his lower back. Their skin seemed to melt together ever they touch as their hips meshed together in quickening clashes of friction and desire. The pace quickened and Rebecca wasn't sure of anything in that moment but Matthew and the pleasure their bodies brought each other.

Over and over again their bodies came together and pleasure rippled through her body unlike anything she'd ever experienced. She trembled underneath him. Anything beyond him and that moment she couldn't comprehend. All she could think about was the glorious way he made her feel as he pressed himself into her deeper. He groan against her neck as his hands traveled over her body. The movement of his hips within her created a buildup of heat. The frantic urgency of his hips pounding into her sent heat spreading through her core, up her body, down her thighs to her toes. It pulsed through her and kept building and building until it launched her off a cliff with a sudden rush of unimaginable pleasure that she'd never experienced before. Rebecca cried out his name loudly as she clutched his hands desperately above her head. Every part of her hummed as wave after wave brought her unbelievable pleasure. If her eyes were open, Rebecca sure she'd have been seeing stars. Matthew met her own cries of pleasure matched her own as he lost control.

His hips slammed wildly into hers as groans tore from his throat. The both rode out the waves of pleasure that were sweeter and hotter than they could ever imagine. With feelings passing over them like a tsunami, everything shattered around them into a fire of heat and wonderful pleasure that Rebecca had never experienced. She didn't want the feeling to end as he bucked against her. Matthew gave two last thrusts before spilling into her and collapsing down against her sweaty flesh. He pressed his forehead against hers as they trembled together. The last of pleasure jerked through their bodies as tiny muscle spasms. When Rebecca's legs relaxed around his hips and her heels fell to the bed, Matthew pushed himself to his elbows to look down at her. He looked down at her and she smiled back at him weakly when she finally opened her eyes.

"Can we do that again?"

He let out a barking laugh before he bent his head and kissed her softly. Rebecca sighed happily as she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight to her.

"As many times as you want," he told with a grin.

"Lots of times," she promised as Matthew collapsed down next to her.

"You'll have to let me recover first," he smiled as he closed his eyes. As Matthew laid on his back, Rebecca turned on her side to curl up next to him under the soft sheets. The light on Gatsby's dock could be seen from the large bay window of Matthew's bedroom and looking out across the bay. A feeling passed through Rebecca that she couldn't quite place until a few minutes after Matthew had fallen asleep.

Guilt.

* * *

 **Six Months Later**

 **Thursday**

 **February 12, 1923**

It was chilly in the early morning as Nick stood in his kitchen. Making tea as quickly as he could to warm his frigid bones, the last thing he expected was to hear a knock on his door shortly before eight o'clock in the morning.

He was dressed in a dark suit and tie with a heavy wool jacket. Leather gloves covered his hands and without preamble, Gatsby strode into the cottage. Nick looked out to see a silver Rolls Royce in parked with an unfamiliar driver.

"It's my winter car," Gatsby explained as Nick closed the door. "Hubert is one of the drivers I employ."

"So, Rebecca has her car and you have yours," Nick said with nod. "You'll never get stuck waiting on her somewhere, I guess."

Gatsby didn't say anything as he clasped his hands behind his back and looked around Nick house. All the while, Nick watched Gatsby trying to figure out why the man was in his cottage at eight o'clock in the morning. He worried that something had happened to Rebecca in the middle of the night, but he quickly stopped himself.

Nick didn't even know if Rebecca had gone home last night to Gatsby House. She'd been spending so much time at both Harper House and Ashby House that he wasn't sure where she was at. If he didn't know where she was at, Nick doubted that Gatsby knew or even cared. There was one nagging thought in his mind that maybe Gatsby was looking for Rebecca in the cottage, but Nick would let him search the house high and low. Gatsby wouldn't find anything and Nick wasn't so sure he'd be willing to tell Gatsby where Rebecca was at exactly.

She seemed so happy with Matthew and her sister that he was very reluctant to tell Gatsby anything about her current happiness. A second thought crossed his mind reminding him that Gatsby probably didn't care where Rebecca was. As long as she was out of the way, Gatsby was more than happy.

"Not many changes in a few months, old sport?" Gatsby finally said as he turned around to look at him.

"No," Nick agreed as he looked around the entry hall. "I like my cottage just the way it is, but you've changed."

His eyes met Gatsby's and there was something unreadable in them. For a few seconds they stared at each other until Gatsby turned away and walked into the formal parlor. He stood looking out at the bay as the wind blew some of the dead leaves across the back porch. Nick rarely went out there now. All he could think about when he stood on that porch was Rebecca sobbing on the floor as Matthew comforted her. The memory did nothing to ease his guilt about the affair. It only served to confuse him more. He neither approved of Rebecca's actions nor did he condone them.

"I was hoping you could help me, old sport," Gatsby said as he gripped the top of the mantle.

"With?" Nick asked quietly as he sat down slowly in a chair.

Jay moved away from the mantle and turned towards the window. He stared out at the house across the bay before turning and looking at Nick.

"Daisy and I are both ready to leave our empty marriages," Gatsby said. "I was hoping you would be there when we tell Rebecca and Buchanan."

Something inside Nick snapped at that moment. He was done playing games with other people and he was done playing with Gatsby. All he'd done for Gatsby was keep secrets and watch the look on Rebecca's face over and over again as she was hurt again and again. He couldn't do what Gatsby was asking him. He'd hurt Rebecca and he wasn't going to do it again.

"She cares about you!" he shouted as he stood up. "You don't get it do you? Rebecca married you because she loved you! I think that she still loves you, but you've done your best to push her out of your life, Jay. You will ruin your marriage to her if you do this. There isn't any going back. You'll lose her forever if you haven't already lost her to-"

"You think I ever wanted Rebecca?" Gatsby shouted back. "Marrying her was business and nothing more! She isn't Daisy!"

"And courting her? She told me everything the night you had Daisy and Buchanan over to party! You made her fall in love with you! The flowers and everything! You did to lead her on. You've done nothing but lie to her and now you're going to leave her for my cousin who won't leave Tom Buchanan for anything!"

"I love Daisy! I want to be with the woman I love!"

"You love the idea of Daisy and you together!" Nick shouted. "If you could just see past this infatuation you have with my cousin you'd see everything about her is fake! Nothing about her is real! You've created a woman in your mind that doesn't exist!"

"Don't you dare say that about her, Carraway!"

"It's the truth, Gatsby!"

"No! Daisy is kind and loving. She accepts people for who they are and she cares about everyone."

"My cousin is a shallow whore who will do anything to get gifts and keep her material needs satisfied. You think you're the first man she's had an affair with?" Nick demanded. "You're a fool if you think that! You're not the first man to come under her spell! That I can promise you without a doubt!"

"I told you not to talk about her like that!" Gatsby yelled as he knocked the clock off the mantle.

"It's the truth and you need to hear it before you make the mistake of your life. The woman you just described my cousin as being isn't even close to her real character! You just described your wife to me, Gatsby! You just described Rebecca! The woman you married."

"Rebecca is none of those things."

"You're so blinded by Daisy that you don't see what's going around you! Have you seen Rebecca? The wife that you push out of her own home so that you're mistress can take her place? She's miserable and you don't care about her! You're going to break her heart. I'm not sure that it can ever be fixed."

"She's young. She'll get over it," Gatsby said indifferently as he turned and smoothed his hair back.

"Like her sister did? Like Mary Harper when Tom Buchanan left her and her unborn child? You had to have known about Mary's suicide and child when you let the Buchanan's into your house! Why would you do that to her Jay?"

"It was the only way to get Daisy to the party!" Gatsby answered hastily. "Her bringing along Buchanan was the only way to get Daisy there."

"You didn't even warn Rebecca!"

"What would I have warned her about?"

Nick looked at Gatsby angrily and shook his head, "You still don't get it. Rebecca is your _wife_. She told me she loved you Jay. Does that not mean anything to you? She's stood by you all these years and she's loved you. Through everything hurtful word and exclusion, everything. Now, you're tossing her aside like some doll that you had fun using. Hell, maybe you and Daisy deserve each other, but I promise you that she won't leave Tom. She won't do it. She cares too much about her money and the nice things in life to risk them over you. I'll be there when you tell Rebecca that you're leaving her. Jay, I won't be there for you. I'll be there for Rebecca. I'll be there to make sure that she can get to someone who can pick up the pieces."


	9. VIII: No Light, No Light

**Part VIII: No Light, No Light**

 _"...You want a revelation_

 _You wanna get it right_

 _But it's a conversation_

 _I just can't have tonight_

 _You want a revelation_

 _Some kind of resolution_

 _You want a revelation..."_

~ "No Light, No Light" - Florence + the Machine

 **Wednesday**

 **February 18, 1923**

Rebecca had known what to do the moment Wolfsheim had called just after breakfast. The chess board had been set and all they needed to do was move a few last pieces before they could call check mate on Buchanan. Apparently, Wolfsheim already had a man in with Buchanan who was quickly becoming one of the most trusted friends that Tom had left in his dwindling circle.

The poker game had been set and rigged so that everything would go off perfectly without a hitch. All the players knew their exact plays by heart and the deck had been loaded so that Buchanan wouldn't be able to cheat. The players at the table would be able to play their cards correctly so that everything worked out and Buchanan would gamble away the deed to his East Egg estate and so much more. What was even better was that he had no way of ever proving that Wolfsheim or any of his associates had been a part of fixed game.

The man that Wolfsheim had found to help them pull off the con of a life time was a professional gambler, but a wealthy gentleman from Atlanta whose own half-sister had come under the prey of Tom Buchanan. Tom had no idea that Julia Colette and Reginald 'Reggie' Nord were even related and it played to their strengths well to have a man like Reggie in Buchanan's ear. According to Wolfsheim, every man at the table knew his role and what was required of him down to every last play. Every single man sitting at the table including the dealer had lost a sister or female relative to Tom Buchanan's charms and it made each man there all the more dangerous and focused to make sure that everything happened exactly as it was supposed to. Of course, Wolfsheim had some of his own people in the house of George Napier where the game would take place.

Napier's sister Jane had also been taken advantage of by Buchanan. The girl had been only eighteen when Tom had seduced her and she'd fallen pregnant. It had happened a few weeks before Tom had married Daisy and the encounter had left the young woman with child. Like Wolfsheim's sister, Jane Napier and her son had died in childbed leaving George Napier alone in the world. Jane had been his last living family member after their parent's death. Like Wolfsheim too, Napier had loved his sister dearly and had been with her at the very end where he'd vowed revenge against Buchanan. Each man had a story that was somehow parallel with Tom's wrong doings to Mary.

Benedict Macy, who was also sitting in at the table, had a younger sister who had been fifteen when Tom had seduced her. She'd fallen with child but in the fifth month of her pregnancy, a miscarriage happened and her daughter had been still born. Luckily, the Macy family had managed to keep the scandal hidden. Clara Macy hadn't been the same since was likely never to be the same ever again. The once carefree and laughing girl had become a shy and quiet woman. In the end, she'd married into an aristocratic family in England that Rebecca had been surprised to learn was a family friend of Matthew's. When she'd asked him about James D'Arcy, Duke of Warrington, Matthew had only sung the praises of the man. Rebecca had been left with the distinct impression that Matthew and James were similar in personality. It was a relief to hear that at least one girl who fallen under Buchanan's spell had gotten out alive and was thriving as well as anyone possibly could. James D'Arcy had known about Buchanan and yet, he'd married Clara anyways. When Rebecca had introduced Benedict and Matthew, she'd seen relief on Macy's face when he heard Matthew talk about how lovely Clara was and how she was a Duchess that would make any man proud.

The fifth and final man sitting at the table with Napier, Nord, Macy and Buchanan would be Charlie Shepard, a wealthy man who sister was the only woman at the table who hadn't fallen pregnant. The man was silent and his stony expression made Rebecca even more afraid of him then she'd ever been of Wolfsheim or Gatsby. According to Wolfsheim, Charlie was a good man who loved his sister dearly. Ever since her breakdown, he'd been cold and withdrawn from the world. Like Mary, Georgiana Shepard had been promised marriage, but once she'd come to Buchanan's bed the rules had changed and she had been abandoned. The experience had been so traumatic for the young girl that she hadn't spoken since the incident and it had left Charlie Shepard angry and determined to do anything to see the man who'd hurt his sister taken care of.

"Park here," Rebecca told Brighton as he pulled the car in front of a car garage in the valley of ashes. It matched the description that Wolfsheim had enclosed in his note for her. When she'd received the note before breaking her fast, Rebecca knew instantly what had to be done and the information that Wolfsheim had received on George Wilson had helped her formulate her plan of attack.

Her job was to create enough doubt in Wilson's mind that she could get him in the car with her to go to New York so that he could see the truth for himself. The minute that Wolfsheim had seen Myrtle and Tom enter the building, he'd sent his note. It was very likely that Tom and Myrtle would be in the secret flat all day and it would be a matter of hours until George Wilson knew the truth.

Seizing the moment, Rebecca let a mask of cold indifference slide over her face as Brighton stopped the car. Quickly, the driver opened the back door and Rebecca stepped out into the crisp, cool air of February. An exhausted looking man walked out from his garage as he used a cloth to wipe grease off his hands.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked looking haggard. For a brief moment, she almost pitied him but her resolve returned like waves hitting a dam and moment later.

"Are you Mr. Wilson?" Rebecca asked as she clutched the envelope that contained Wolfsheim's faked letter to her in hand. Everything had to go perfectly and Rebecca felt like getting George Wilson to doubt his wife's fidelity would be easier than she thought it would.

"I am Mr. Wilson," Wilson said slowly as he slipped the grease cloth into his pocket, "Who are you?"

"A worried woman," Rebecca replied as she looked around the dirty show with thinly veiled disgust. "Is there a private place we could speak?"

"I h-h-have an office," Wilson told her looking concerned. "Would your driver like a drink?"

Brighton looked to Rebecca and she nodded, "I'm sure he'd love one while he's waiting for us."

George quickly led her into the garage office and got Brighton a soda as she looked around. There was nothing impressive about the building or the office. It was dark and dull with a desk in the center of the room that was overflowing with papers. An old desk chair was behind the desk and a second chair was on the opposite side of the desk that looked like it was used for customers to sit in. The chair looked so old and dangerously close to falling apart that Rebecca was sure that if she sat, the chair would snap in two. Looking through the open door way, Rebecca watched as Brighton accepted the bottle soda from Wilson. Her driver looked over Wilson's shoulder at her and she nodded as if to tell him not to worry. Turning back around, Rebecca looked at the desk as Wilson walked back into the office.

"What is it that I can help you with, ma'am?" Wilson asked with a tired smile. "Something wrong with your car?"

"No," Rebecca said quietly as she walked slowly back towards the door of the office and closed it, "I'm here about your wife, Myrtle Wilson. She is your wife, am I correct?"

"Myrtle?" Wilson asked looking confused. "Is everything alright? She's in New York for the day. If you want to speak with her, you'll have to come back another time. I do apologize-"

"Mr. Wilson, do you know where in New York your wife is?" Rebecca interrupted coldly. "Because I have a letter here of the most serious nature as well as a key to the place she is currently at."

"What are you talking about?" Wilson said with the shake of his head, "Myrtle is in New York visiting her sister. They're very close."

Rebecca sighed and held up the envelope, "A letter arrived this morning for me. It talks about you. Did you know that? It also talks about your wife and one Mr. Tom Buchanan."

"Tom Buchanan?"

"Surely you know Mr. Buchanan?" Rebecca laughed a little, "Everyone is afraid to let their wives and daughters anywhere near him. He's a womanizer of the first order."

"Mr. Buchanan is a business associate."

"Business associate…are you sure?" she challenged.

"Well, we will be soon. He is always telling me he'll have his man bring his car over for me to fix," Wilson replied with the shake of his head. "What are you talking about him being a womanizer? He's a good man, ma'am. Don't disrespect him."

"Oh," Rebecca said as a frown crossed her face. "You don't know about what's been going on, do you?"

"My patience is thinning, ma'am. What should I know about that I apparently don't know about?" Wilson sighed.

"Myrtle and Tom…they're the talk of New York City. Apparently, they've been seeing each other and they have a flat in the city. That's where she's at now with him."

"That's a lie!" Wilson snapped angrily.

"Is it?" Rebecca snapped back as she held out the letter for him to see. "They've been the talk of New York for weeks now. Only recently was it discovered that your wife is his mistress. Don't think I wouldn't come here without hard evidence, Mr. Wilson. I wouldn't set foot anywhere near this dump if I absolutely didn't have to."

"A letter? That's you evidence?"

"A key and an address. That's my evidence, Mr. Wilson," she told him quietly as she took out the key that Wolfsheim had procured for her. It was the master key to the apartment building Myrtle was at and it would unlock any door including the secret flat.

"Prove me wrong," Rebecca continued as she challenged him. "I have a car. I can take you to New York and the exact address where your wife is at. We can find out together if what my friend has written is really the truth or a simple lie."

"Where did you get the key?" Wilson asked her as he stared at the letter in her out stretched hands.

"My friend procured it. She's been doing a small investigation into Mr. Buchanan and his women. Her private investigator procured the key and she sent it to me. She's a very devout woman and wanted to make sure that you knew the truth about your wife so that you could bring her back to God," Rebecca said using the information that Wolfsheim had proved about Mr. Wilson's deep religious beliefs. "What can you lose, Mr. Wilson? You claim that your wife is so very faithful. Prove me wrong."

She held the key out to him too and Wilson stared at both the letter and the key.

"Myrtle isn't having an affair," Wilson said again but he didn't sound so sure of himself. At the moment, Rebecca knew that she'd drawn him in and he was hooked on line she'd dangled in front of him.

"Then what do we have to lose?" she smiled as she slipped the letter and the key back into her clutch. "It's just a drive to the city."

Wilson reached out a greasy hand hesitantly, "She's not having an affair."

He picked up his coat from the hook near the office door and Rebecca smiled inwardly with glee.

Everything was working.

* * *

The back door to her car swung open and Rebecca nearly jumped from where she'd been watching the entrance to the building where Tom kept his secret flat all morning. The chilly air filled the car as Wolfsheim slipped into the seat next to her wearing a heavy winter coat and leather gloves. His hat in hand, he nodded at Brighton in acknowledgement before he turned to look at her.

"I figured I'd find you here, Mrs. Gatsby," he said as Rebecca adjust the fur blanket that covered her legs.

"I want to make sure that Wilson sees his wife and Tom together," she admitted as she watched the entryway with anticipation.

"My man said that Wilson is at the door. He's just trying to come up with the guts to open the damn thing," Wolfsheim sighed. "Hopeful, we won't have to wait too damn long."

"We might as well be here all day if we're waiting on George Wilson," Rebecca sighed as she leaned back. "Is everything else ready?"

"Yes, everything will be ready for tomorrow night when you go to the Sloane's party. Plant these letters near the biggest gossips in New York City," Wolfsheim told her as he took out a stack of letters. "My cousin forged them just like the letter you showed to Wilson today. Once those gossiping hens get their hands on these letters, well, Buchanan will have no choice but to flee New York in ruin. Most of his fortune will be gone, his estate will be gone, and he'll be the humiliation on his family once again. Lord, I pray and hope that his father does something like disinherit that bastard. I'd like to see him rot without his daddy's cash to keep him warm at night."

Rebecca quickly accepted the letter and looked through them. They were detailed accounts of the many different women Tom had slept with and even some hinted that he had dozens of love children in Chicago and around the country. Each letter was more scandalous then the next and each letter would do considerable damage in the hands of New York's worst gossips.

These letters would destroy any lasting shred of Buchanan's reputation and status in society. He and Daisy would become the laughing stock of New York and doors would be closed to them. After Wolfsheim won Buchanan's money, he would leak word of Buchanan's lost fortune and it would be the final nail in the Buchanan family coffin. By the time Buchanan knew what had happened, there would be nothing left for him to do and it filled Rebecca with glee even more if it was possible. There would be no time for damage control and the humiliation he'd subjected everyone around him to would come back around and haunt him for many years to come.

"I'm sure that everyone would like to see Tom Buchanan rot and we will see it happen," Rebecca told Wolfsheim as she slipped the letters into her clutch. "I assure you of that, Mr. Wolfsheim."

Just as Wolfsheim was about to reply, they both leaned forward at the first sight of movement at the front door of the apartment building and they both watched as a raging Wilson pushed Myrtle through the front door. She was barely dressed and it looked like her husband had yanked her from bed with Tom. Wilson continued to yell at her as he hailed a cab. He alternated between shaking her and yelling in her face as she cried. It didn't surprise Rebecca when Myrtle tried to say something to Wilson, he smacked her. Wilson's blow quickly silenced Myrtle as a cabby pulled up in front of them.

Without waiting another second, Myrtle quickly slipped into the cab as a half-dressed Tom clamored out into the street. Words were passed between the men angrily and ended with a few bystanders holding Wilson back from attack Tom. George Wilson spat something at Tom before climbing into the cab that Myrtle had gotten into. Tom stood outside for only a moment before returning back indoors to his secret flat.

"What a pity," Rebecca drawled as she leaned back. "I think I would have liked to see George Wilson give Tom Buchanan a proper beating."

"Yes," Wolfsheim agreed as he took out his fob watch from his vest pocket. "What a pity indeed. It's nearly one o'clock feel like lunch, Mrs. Gatsby? I happen to know of a quiet, out of the way place we could go, very discrete and secluded."

Wolfsheim gave her a teasing look that Rebecca could only smile at. She'd come to know Meyer more and more since they'd begun working together. He'd revealed a wicked sense of humor that always brought a smile to her face.

"What will my husband say, Mr. Wolfsheim?" she dared with a saucy grin.

"It's the Plaza Hotel woman!" Wolfsheim barked with a laugh. "Where did you think I was talking you? A Speak Easy? Your husband would shoot me."

He didn't give her a chance to respond as he delivered orders to Brighton quickly. Within minutes, the car was moving and a second car followed behind. Rebecca looked out the window into the snowy streets of New York and couldn't help but to think about what Mary would say about their whole scheme. Rebecca couldn't help but to think that despite all the evidence laid before her, Mary would continue to believe that Tom Buchanan was innocent and still loved her.

* * *

 **Thursday**

 **February 20, 1923**

 **Sloane House, New York City**

Tom Buchanan wasn't a nervous man.

It took a lot to make him feel anything really, but when word broke out about his affairs in Chicago, it had made him feel anxious. He would be the first to admit he liked women, although perhaps a little more than he should. The society of Chicago had driven him out of the city. They were horrified at his womanizing ways and it had been his father's idea that they go to New York.

John Buchanan was one of the few people who truly could instill fear in Tom Buchanan's heart as an adult. The old man had threatened to disinherit him if another scandal like Chicago came about. Tom could still remember Daisy screaming and crying at him as she'd flung objects at him left and right. When news had broken about the fact that he'd had over a dozen mistresses all over the city, the press had eaten up like cherry pie. They'd loved it and the society of Chicago locked their doors to any Buchanan. People could understand having one mistress, but even Tom knew he'd crossed a line in having twelve women at his fingertips.

When John Buchanan had arranged the move to New York, the old man had told him that he didn't care who his mistress was as long as he only had one and that one woman never showed up in any papers, or became pregnant with any bastard child of his. Coming back to New York had been bitter sweet in the end though. The sky line reminded Tom of Mary Harper and her love of the city. Truly, his heart had ached for a few weeks when he'd left her. Mary Harper was bright and wild, but she wasn't the Mrs. Buchanan he was looking for. No, Mary Harper was silly and a stupid little chit. She had only one person to blame for her child and it was herself. She called him crying that she was pregnant and misheard his words or something. She'd thought he'd offer her marriage, but the words had never passed his lips. He had been certain that her family would clean up the mess she'd made and they had, but Rebecca and Elizabeth Harper knew the truth of what had happened. Those two women knowing the truth about what had happened was why Tom Buchanan was a nervous man.

Besides his father, Rebecca and Elizabeth Harper were the only two people who scared him simply because they held the Pandora's Box of truths in their hands about him. Marrying into the Gatsby name had only tightened the Harper's status in New York society and the marriage had healed their reputation. In New York society, Katherine Harper was a force of nature especially when she teamed up with the Vanderbilt or Rockefeller family. Tom would bet his fortune that Katherine Harper had been furious when Mary Harper had fallen pregnant. Rumors had been circulating for a while that the Harper family had been arranging a marriage between Mary Harper and John Hubert Vanderbilt, the heir to the Vanderbilt family fortune.

From Daisy and her friends, Tom knew also that the Harper's had recovered and built their social standing even more once Rebecca married Jay Gatsby. Their hopes were now set on Elizabeth to make a match with either the Rockefellers or Vanderbilt's. When Elizabeth married into either family, the Harper's would no longer be near the top of the society food chain, they would be the top of the food chain. The Harper's would become practical royalty and with that status they would gain more power than ever.

Tom didn't like it, but he knew that the Harper sisters could crush Daisy and himself if they so desired. The world could believe whatever they wanted to about sweet, darling Rebecca Gatsby. Tom knew the truth. Rebecca was like a viper and she'd learned from the best. She could sit on information for months, years even and when she decided to strike, she went for the jugular. Her attack was swift and one barely knew what was happening until it was over.

Fear was something Tom Buchanan rarely felt, but just one look from her and he could feel the noose tightening around his neck. Whispers had started again all over the city that Tom had a new mistress and even more so, whispers had started again about Mary Harper dying and leaving a son who had been fathered by him. Chicago hadn't been mentioned yet, but it was only a matter of days until word broke and once again society would be horrified by his womanizing ways.

The Harper sisters would make it unable for anyone to trace the leaks back to them, but Tom knew it was a part of their game. They were like lioness playing with their food and he was in the next one in line to be their meal. It was a game he'd lose very quickly because New York had firmly sided with the Harper's and the sympathy was pouring out like a wine glass overflowing. Everyone spoke about how sweet Mary had been and how much of a scoundrel the man was who'd wronged her. Rebecca and Elizabeth Harper never used his name directly, but it was implied in all the rumors he'd heard.

Tom Buchanan had every reason to be afraid. He could have sworn he'd seen Rebecca Gatsby in a car across the street for the secret flat he kept with Myrtle the day before. He wasn't sure if he'd imagined it or not but when he'd come back down stairs completely dressed, the car had been gone. The feeling of fear had settled into his gut. Coupled with the fact that Myrtle hadn't been returning any of his phone calls, he knew something wasn't right. Tom had been so lost in his thoughts that he nearly jumped when he felt a hand clasp him on the shoulder.

"Relax, Tommy boy," Reginald Nord smiled. "It's just me."

Tom smiled seeing a familiar face. Reggie Nord was a professional gambler and a gentleman by name. Originally from Atlanta, Reggie was a tall man with strongly built frame and green eyes that looked like emeralds. His midnight black hair was combed back perfectly and the black tux he was cut just right. What made him and Tom good friends though was their mutual love for women. Reggie was probably worse in the womanizing department than he was.

Unmarried, Reggie lived his life through gambling, sex and drinking. The man had a fortune that rivaled many, but he didn't touch. No, Reggie made his living by gambling and had started showing Tom around the tables. At first, Tom had been distrusting but Reggie had become quickly a valued friend and was currently teaching him everything he knew about poker.

The one thing that he and Reggie firmly agreed on was that the scum of the world like Wolfsheim and Gatsby could kiss their asses. Men like them were nothing but filthy bootleggers who didn't belong in the company of decent, respectable men like themselves. It was refreshing to Tom to find someone whose views and values matched his own so well.

"I didn't know you'd be here," Tom said as they shook hands. "What brings you to this kinda party? Please tell me it isn't some woman Reggie. God, I hope she's not married. I'll have to tell you about George Wilson and his wife Myrtle yesterday. It was a goddamned mess."

"Not just any woman, my sister," Reggie said as he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "Marianne apparently wanted to take in a few parties before she returned back to Atlanta. You know how girls are. A few dresses, pearls and parties and they're happy for the rest of their lives."

Tom laughed, "Don't we all know that is the truth."

Reggie let go of Tom's hand, but the smile never left his face, "I found a game if you're interested. Stakes are real high, but I know you, Tommy boy. I ain't ever seen someone with your kinda skills and I think you could really win this baby. The buy in ain't cheap, but the pot is worth probably half our combined fortunes. So what do you say, Tommy boy? Feel like a game?"

* * *

Rebecca watched from across the room as she danced with Nick. Reggie Nord led Tom Buchanan away and a satisfying smirk crossed her face as she felt delight fill her. Everything was falling into place just the way it was supposed to and if things kept going the way they were supposed to go, the plan would work out perfectly. Wolfsheim had sent her a note before she'd left Gatsby House earlier in the day and it only made the smirk on her face larger when she thought about it.

George Wilson had sold his shop to a man of Wolfsheim's earlier in the morning and planned to move west with Myrtle. According to the buyer, Myrtle Wilson had gotten the beating of her life from her husband. She didn't look good and whenever the wire rang during their brief business transaction, George Wilson glared at her as if daring her to answer it. Soon, Buchanan would have nothing and the thought excited her to no end.

"What are you smiling about?" Nick teased as he spun her around in the waltz.

"What?" Rebecca asked feeling startled as she looked up at him. Nick had been kind enough to escort her to the Sloane Party and he'd provided a steady stream of delightful conversation that she hadn't been quite as attentive to as she usually was. Rebecca knew that he thought she was distracted by the thought of Gatsby and Daisy being together while they were at the party. The truth was that Rebecca hadn't even thought about Daisy being with her husband. Her mind was focused on Buchanan. She wasn't even think about Gatsby and Daisy.

"You have this smile on your face like you just won a million dollars," Nick told her as he smiled back. "Aren't you going to tell me why you're smiling so?"

She quickly covered and gave Nick a softer smile, "I feel that way, Nick, like I've won a million dollars. I can't explain it, but for once in my life I feel genuine happiness, Mr. Carraway. Just incandescent happiness that makes me smile so much. Are you jealous of me?"

"I don't agree with you seeing Lord Kettlemore, Rebecca. You must know that, but I am happy for you that you're finding joy in this life," Nick said quietly. "Your happiness matters to many people above anything else. So yes, I am jealous that you're so happy."

"I know that you don't approve, Nick. No one has ever made me the way I've been feeling in a very long time. I haven't felt this way since…"

"Since Gatsby," Nick finished wearing an astonished expression.

"Yes," Rebecca agreed quietly. "Matthew and Jay, they're two very different men, but I do care for them both in very different ways."

"So, you do love Gatsby?"

"I loved him," she corrected. "I loved him a long time ago. When I believe in a fairy tales world where the princes always saved the princesses and slayed the many dragons. Do you know what happened? I grew up, Nick. I learned that the world doesn't work that way. Fairy tales are just that, tales. Fables and bedtime stories made up so little girls will go to sleep like they're told. The time I spent with Gatsby? It was nothing more than a dream, Nick."

"What about Matthew Spring?" Nick asked. "Do you love him?"

Rebecca halted her feet and looked at him sadly, "I don't think I am capable of love, Nick. Do I care for Matthew a great deal? Yes, I would gladly go to the ends of the world with him. Do I love him? I don't know what love is anymore."

"How can you think you're not capable of love, if you don't know what love is?" he reasoned.

"Have you ever burnt yourself so badly that it left a scar?" Rebecca asked. "I have been burned. It's not the kind of burn you can see, but it's there. Gatsby left it. I'm not sure it will heal, Nick. That's why I don't think I'm capable of love. I'm just too damaged, please, excuse me."

She turned swiftly on her heal and walked off into the crowd trying not to cry. For so long she pretended that she was alright. That nothing was wrong, but Nick had the impossible ability to know when she was lying. He could see through her like glass and he always asked hard questions that hurt to answer. The truth was that for so long she'd thought she'd loved Gatsby and now Matthew was stirring different kinds of feelings inside her. The long nights that she spent in his bed warmed more than just her body. He was slowly warming her heart and the emotions that for so long she tried to keep hidden away.

She didn't want to confront her emotions for Gatsby or Matthew. Rebecca wanted things to stay the way they were. Everything was so simple now and to rock the boat would be devastating to her. It registered in the back of her mind that eventually Matthew would leave and go back to England. He had to go back simply because he had other responsibilities there that he could turn away from. He had a life there and she didn't want to be the reason that he was kept away from that. The ending of their affair was enviable.

Eventually, someone would find out or something would take Matthew back to England. He would leave and she'd return back to her own cold, miserable, and lonely bed at Gatsby Manor where the memories of her time with him would warm her at night. The more Rebecca thought about it, the more she wanted to cry. Walking towards a maid and requesting that the woman fetch her clutch, Rebecca stood on the balcony above the Sloane's ballroom and watched as the hordes of people below laughed and chatted.

The same feeling of disconnect passed over her as she watched. Standing there reminded Rebecca of all the glamorous parties that Jay had thrown. He hadn't had one in months, not since he'd found Daisy. The moment Daisy set foot in the manor, the parties had ended. Gatsby had left her to deal with the many buzzing questions about why the parties were done. It wasn't a position Rebecca had enjoyed being in, but she was convinced that the outside world would realize something was amiss if she didn't play the dutiful wife and demurely answer the many questions.

"Are we ready?"

Elizabeth's voice snapped Rebecca out of her thoughts. Turning to look at her sister, Rebecca could see the maid returning with her clutch over Elizabeth's shoulder.

"Yes," she told Elizabeth as the maid bobbed a curtsy.

"Here's your clutch, ma'am," the young girl said as she handed the small beaded bag over.

"You may go," Rebecca told the maid. The young maid bobbed another curtsy before walking off. Grabbing Elizabeth's wrist, Rebecca walked quickly away from the balcony to a secluded hallway where she opened the bag and took out the stack of letters only after she was sure no one would see them.

"You know what to do," she said to Elizabeth as she handed her younger sister half the stack. "Put them in places you know people will find them."

Elizabeth nodded and left Rebecca standing in the empty hallway. Looking around, Rebecca spotted a clock and looked at the time. It was nearly ten o'clock and the game would begin any moment. Her chest felt tight as she thought about what was going to happen in the next two hours. Tom Buchanan would soon find his world rocked in ways he could never imagine. Only for a moment did she pity him, but that pity quickly disappeared when she thought of the many people he'd hurt.

Revenge might not lessen the ache and hurt of what had happened to Mary, but Rebecca was sure it was a damn good place to start. She'd always resent Buchanan and forgiving him was out of the question. If losing his wealth even slightly compared to what losing Mary felt like, Rebecca was sure it still wasn't enough of a punishment.

The clock chimed ten and Rebecca squared her shoulders. Nothing Tom Buchanan could ever do would ease the hurt of losing Mary. Not even his money could fill the hole that had begun to form inside her since Mary's death. Nothing every could fix what happened, but Rebecca would have the satisfaction of revenge and being able to provide her sister's son with the future and inheritance that was rightfully his by birth. Walking down the hallway, Rebecca slipped back into the crowds and set about her task that would bring about the fall of the Buchanan family.

* * *

 **Tuesday**

 **February 25, 1923**

New York City was in uproar. Nick couldn't ever remember a time when he'd seen the city in such chaos. Everyone was talking about the 'Sloane Letters' and the contents of them. Rumors had already been circulating about Tom and Chicago, but the letters were by many believed to be concrete evidence of the truth. Tom had been managed to lie to Daisy so far about the rumors. When Nick had gone to see Tom earlier in the day, Tom had been anxious. Never had Nick seen the usually cool and confident Tom so disheveled. The man had been on his last nerve and Daisy had been trying to comfort him. It had been an almost sickening sight to watch. His cousin comforting a man she planned on leaving in a few days.

Nick followed Crawley up the steps of the manor towards the library where Gatsby was. It was nearly one o'clock in the afternoon and he hadn't seen Rebecca since she'd excused herself during their dance nearly a week before. He regretted that he'd made her uncomfortable and upset. Nick half hoped that they'd run into her at some point on the quick walk to the library so he could apologize to her. Upsetting her had not been his goal. Nick had only wanted to tell her that he was happy that she was smiling again. Instead, it had come out wrong. Reaching the double doors to the library, Crawley knocked. They waited until they heard Gatsby's calm voice bidding them to enter the room.

"Mr. Carraway is here to see you, Mr. Gatsby, sir," Crawley said in his gravelly voice.

Gatsby smiled as he stood looked at Nick, "Old sport, good to see you."

"You as well," Nick smiled as Crawley gave a small bow and exited the room. The door softly clicked shut behind them as Gatsby stuffed his hands in his pockets. He was quiet for a moment as he looked at his friend before taking a hand out of his pocket and picking up the decanter that was on a smaller circular table near the chair he'd been sitting in.

"Would you like some, old sport?"

Nick shook his head no as he walked towards the twin chair that Gatsby had been sitting in. Sitting down across from Gatsby who had also resumed his seat, Nick wasn't sure how to tell Gatsby of the rumors that were swirling around town. He didn't want to fan an open flame if Gatsby knew what they were saying about the Buchanan's. However, before Nick could say anything, Gatsby spoke up.

"I know you promised to be there for Rebecca when Daisy and I tell both Tom and her about our affair," Gatsby began. "Daisy is finally ready to tell Tom the truth and we've decided that we're going to do it on the first of March. That's this Saturday, old sport. Will you be there?"

"Jay," Nick began, but he stopped. The cold, hard reality was that Daisy was never going to leave Tom. She was a shallow, vain woman and Tom had everything that she needed. Gatsby was simply a toy to her, nothing more. Nick knew that the odds of Daisy leaving Tom were slim to none and instead of telling Jay that, Nick kept quiet.

In a twisted way, he hoped that if Daisy broke Gatsby's heart and showed him who she really was, the spell that she'd cast over Jay Gatsby would be broken. Nick hoped that somehow something would bring Gatsby back down to reality and earth.

"I'll be there," Nick finally said quietly. "What time?"

A smile came across Gatsby's face as he leaned back in the winged chair.

"Thank you, old sport. I appreciate it. Daisy will be calling Friday and we'll set up a time for Saturday. I've already made sure that Rebecca is free that day and Daisy has done the same with Tom. Everything is going to work out perfectly, old sport. I promise."

All Nick could do was nod and stare at the carpet. He didn't have the heart to tell Gatsby the truth of what he'd seen at his cousin's house nor did he have the heart to tell him the truth about Daisy. Both things Gatsby would have to learn on his own after he wrecked his marriage to the woman who had once desperately loved him.

* * *

 **Friday**

 **February 28, 1923**

Rebecca stood staring out the window of Matthew's library. The cool air caressed her skin the early morning light. Her feet were bare under the cold wood floors. Her loose robe barely covered up her lacy nightgown, but she barely registered the chill in the room as the snow below on the grounds glittered like millions of diamonds. They entranced her as she thought about how everything had worked out perfect.

She did feel some satisfaction, but it wasn't the feelings that she was expecting she'd be feeling. Wolfsheim had drained Buchanan's coffers and he'd seized the deed to Buchanan Manor in East Egg. Sources from the Buchanan staff had told Wolfsheim's men that Tom Buchanan was fleeing the states and going to Europe. He was whisking away Daisy and Pammy on some exotic trip to cover up the fact that he'd nearly lost three fourths of the Buchanan fortune and the family seat to a gangster. Rebecca would also bet that Tom was desperate to get out of the country before his father found out what had happened. John Buchanan was a fierce man and instilled fear in the hearts of everyone he met.

The only bright shining diamond in the events that had happened was that Wolfsheim had gifted her nephew with nearly half the fortune he'd won from Buchanan. While Rebecca was grateful, the money did nothing to ease the ache inside as she thought about Thomas and Mary. Destroying Buchanan had given her fleeting pleasure, but the realization was creeping up on her that nothing she did would ease the aching void that Mary had left behind. She had used her anger as a powerful motivator. In the end, she still felt the grief of losing a beloved sister. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she looked at the frozen glass and the sunlight breaking through the heavy, dark clouds. It was the first time Rebecca had let herself cry over Mary. The feelings that she forced down into a bottle and stuffed away were threatening to erupt in her chest.

More tears fell in rapid succession down her cheeks as she hopelessly tried to force herself to stop crying. Rebecca only noticed someone else was in the room with her when she felt a handkerchief dab her damp cheeks. Turning, she stared into Matthew's blue eyes as he stood looking at her with concern. Dropping the handkerchief down onto the table that was in front of the window, he pulled her into his arms. The warmth of his embrace was comforting and with his strong arms wrapped around her, Rebecca felt so safe and secure. He chin rested on the top of her head and his hand rubbed a soothing circle across her back. Blinking as fast as she could, Rebecca tried to stop the tears that seemed to be endless.

"Tell me what is wrong, my darling," he whispered softly. "Tell me what I can do to fix whatever is troubling you."

His words only brought more tears to her eyes as Rebecca buried her face in his chest and cried. She didn't care that she ruined his suit coat or shirt. Nothing mattered in that moment. There was one thing she wanted but could never have. Never had Rebecca so desperately wanted her sister back. In all the time that Mary had been gone, never had Rebecca felt such a longing for her.

"I want Mary," she sobbed to Matthew as she turned her head to hear his beating heart. "All I want is Mary back. She won't come back, will she? She's gone and it hurts so much. I can't stop the hurting."

Matthew's arms tightened around her. He said nothing but kissed the top of her head and cupped the back of her head.

"Will the pain ever stop?" Rebecca cried harder feeling his tender touch. "Will the ache just ever go away?"

"No," Matthew whispered. "Losing a loved one stays with you forever. It doesn't mean we love them any less. It only means that they've journey to a place we cannot go, my love."

Closing her eyes, Rebecca held onto Matthew tightly and hoped that he too would never leave her, but in her heart of hearts she knew that the day would come that Matthew too would leave her.

The ache inside her nearly doubled.

* * *

It was the day before Gatsby and Daisy were supposed to tell Rebecca and Buchanan about their affair. It was nearly too late to pay a social call, but Nick wanted to know if Daisy had called Gatsby with details. From the condition of Buchanan Manor, Nick doubted Gatsby was even on Daisy's mind. The house had been in complete chaos as trunks were packed left and right with entire wardrobes and valued possessions. Daisy had been going on and on about Europe and how Tom planned to take his two favorite girls to his favorite cities in the world. Jordan had been noticeably missing and Daisy had shrugged it off as her friend simply being jealous.

Nick knew that Jordan wasn't jealous. She was keeping her distance like everyone else in New York was doing. The society pages were having a field day with the letters from the Sloane Party and the intimate knowledge of everything that had happened in Chicago. There had even been whispers that Tom had gambled away the family fortune in a card game the same night as the Sloane Party, but there weren't any conformations yet that the money was gone. If anyone knew the truth, no one was saying a word.

The rumor shocked Nick but the more he thought about it, the more it fit in with Tom's behavior. The man had been jumpy, nervous, and erratic. Women, Tom could handle with ease.

A thrashing from John Buchanan about losing the family fortune?

That would have any man ruining their pants. It also made sense as to why Tom wanted an ocean between himself and his father as quick as possible.

Making his way up the wide stone steps to the front door of Gatsby Manor, Nick knocked and was greeted by Crawley. The old butler quickly confirmed that Gatsby was in the library like he usual was. Thanking the aging man, Nick made his way up the stairs and to the room he'd become familiar with the many months he'd been friends with Gatsby. Knocking once on the door, Nick turned the door knob and stepped into the dimly lit room. Gatsby was sitting in his usual chair in front of a roaring fire. His decanter was next to him on the small circular table and a half drunken glass of scotch was in his hand. The room which was composed of dark wood with burgundy and golden hues along with dark earthy tones looked comfortable, but the tension in the air was thick.

Gatsby whole body was tense and Nick was sure that his coming into the room hadn't even been noticed. Walking towards the twin chair that was on the other side of the circular table, Nick slowly sat down and relaxed back into the comfortable chair. Minutes of silence passed between them as Gatsby said nothing. After nearly fifteen minutes, Nick sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Has Daisy called yet?" he asked as Jay continued to stare at the flames. Nick wasn't even sure if his friend had heard him, but he felt relieved when a tense Gatsby gave one decisive nod indicating what Nick knew to be true.

Daisy hadn't called.

"Is Rebecca home?" Nick asked again trying to bring some words from Gatsby's lips.

"She's with Elizabeth, I think," Gatsby said finally after a few moments of silence before standing up and placing his hands on his hips. "They've been spending all their spare minutes together. God only knows what sisters do when they're together. Frankly, I don't give a damn."

Nick wanted to tell Gatsby that Rebecca probably wasn't with Elizabeth. At that moment, she was probably in bed with Matthew Spring in East Egg. The words nearly passed his lips, but Nick stopped himself. He didn't know for sure if Rebecca was having sexual relations with Matthew. Speculation would only make Gatsby more anxious than he already was.

Just looking at the man, Nick wondered if Gatsby had relaxed any muscles in his body recent. The tension was clear in his shoulders and posture. Before Nick could tell his friend to relax, Gatsby moved and began pacing. For nearly an hour, Nick watched Gatsby pace the length of the library back and forth. They were waiting for a call that wasn't bound to come. A part of Nick wished he'd never introduced Gatsby to Daisy. The other part hoped that by introducing them, some healing came out of this experience for Gatsby. Maybe the man would finally see reason and understand that the characterization he had made out for Daisy was so far off. No one but Gatsby was under an allusion as to what kind of woman she was.

It was late when Nick finally stood up and stretched. His own body was sore for sitting for the past few hours. Rolling his neck, Nick was keenly aware of the stabbing hunger pains in his stomach.

"I'm headed home, Jay," Nick said as he watched Gatsby come to a halt and drop back down into the chair he'd been sitting before. Gatsby didn't say anything, but stared into the fire like the answer to all the problems in life were written in the flames. Not expecting an answer, Nick began to walk towards the door. Just as his hand touched the door knob, Gatsby spoke up.

"Wait with me," he said shakily as his voice cracked towards the end.

Nick stopped in the doorway and closed his eyes. Just from the tone of his voice, Nick knew Gatsby wasn't as sure of himself as he'd been earlier in the day. Daisy had yet to call and knowing the reason why, Nick turned around planning to tell Gatsby the truth once and for all. The look of hope in Gatsby's eyes made him freeze. He couldn't bring himself to crush the hope that Gatsby clung to like a child's blanket. Walking back to the chair he'd been sitting in, Nick lowered himself down and like Gatsby, stared at into the fire while waiting for the telephone to ring.

"She'll call, old sport," Gatsby whispered. "I know she will."

Nick didn't say anything as he turned his head to look out at the purple and orange colors striking against the skyline. Daisy was probably long gone by now. On some boat going across the ocean or she lying down to sleep one last time in New York.

She wasn't going to call.

* * *

 **Saturday**

 **March 1, 1923**

Nick wasn't sure what time he'd fallen asleep, but he awoke with a sharp pain in his neck. Sitting up, he looked out of the nearest windows to see the grey clouds of winter hanging over the horizon. Snowflakes fell slowly and gathered around the frozen glass of the window. The fire that had been roaring earlier in the evening was nearly dead. Looking up at the clock over the mantle, Nick's eyes widened when he saw that it was nearly eleven o'clock in the morning. He must have fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning. It was the only logical explanation that Nick could come up with as to why he'd slept so late.

Looking around the room, Nick easily spotted Gatsby as the man sat at his desk still staring at the telephone. Gatsby looked like he hadn't slept at all during the night. He looked tired and dark shadows were forming under his eyes as he blinked tiredly. Slipping his hands into his pocket, Nick slowly walked over to desk and stood in front of it. He waited patiently for Gatsby to say something, but no words came. Turning and going to the doors, Nick opened the door and was nearly hit in the face by a delicate little fist.

"Oh, sir! Please, forgive me!"

Having dodged the knock that had been intended for the door, Nick looked down to see a maid dressed in a black dress with a white apron. Her hair was covered by a cap and she looked familiar. It took a few moments for everything to click but Nick quickly realized that he was staring at Tilly, Rebecca's maid.

"Can I help you?" he finally asked after a few moments of staring at the nervous young girl.

"Delivering tea and some breakfast, sir," Tilly said quickly. "I know it'll be lunch soon, but Mr. Gatsby never came down for dinner nor did he order a tray. We all thought that he might be hungry down in the kitchens. Is it alright if I come in and tend to you and Mr. Gatsby?"

Nick nodded and stepped aside so that the petite girl could walk in. The girl moved quickly and set the silver tray of food down on an empty circular table. She set the table and quickly took out the paper that had been freshly ironed and folded. Nick picked it up and flipped through. He glanced at the different headlines but stopped seeing that the infamous gossip pages was missing.

"The gossip pages are missing," he told her as he looked at the page numbers.

"Pardon me, sir," Tilly said quickly. "Mrs. Gatsby usually likes to read them. Mr. Gatsby doesn't care for those pages. He prefers the business and the news sections. Mr. Crawley always makes sure to divide the paper correctly."

"And did Mrs. Gatsby get her pages this morning?" Nick asked as he went fishing for information on Rebecca's whereabouts.

A look passed over Tilly's face, but the maid expertly hid her surprise at his question. She answered him that Mrs. Gatsby had indeed come home like she always did, but Nick could tell that the woman wasn't a very good liar. She quickly changed the subject. It amused Nick to watch the girl become flustered.

"Do you read the gossip pages, Mr. Carraway?" she asked and it brought a smile to Nick's lips.

"No," he told her. "I don't read that rubbish."

"Oh, but you should!" Tilly exclaimed. "If you did you'd know all about what's happened. It's so shocking! Poor Mary Harper! God rest her soul."

A frown crossed Nick's face as the maid put the finishing touches on the breakfast tray. Tilly moved quickly around the library fixing books and chairs that were out of place and Nick watched curiously as she added more logs to the fire.

"What about Mary Harper?" he asked.

"Why she was seduced by Tom Buchanan," Tilly sighed dramatically. "It's so tragic really. Tom Buchanan promised to marry her, but left her instead. She died from a broken heart in the end. She's not the only one who's had a broken heart thanks to that man."

"I would imagine not," Nick said as he put his hands back in his pockets. "Would you please pour the tea? Mary Harper won't be the last girl that gets her heart broken."

Tilly quickly did as he asked and stirred in some sugar before continuing their conversation on.


	10. IX: Into the Past

**Part XI: Into the Past**

 _"...He'll show me the way there_

 _I can see the light_

 _But in the darkness_

 _I'll follow you..."_

~ "Into the Past" - Nero

Rebecca Gatsby looked around the library in horror. Books were torn up, tables smashed and overturned and furniture destroyed. Upon arriving home from spending the night with Matthew, Rebecca had found her household in uproar even though it was late in the evening. Gatsby had destroyed the library and had yelled at anyone who had tried to approach him. He'd even thrown a vase at one of the poor parlor maids who'd come up with some warm water to tend to his bloody and bruised hands.

Rebecca had always known that Gatsby had anger in him. There were rumors that he husband had killed a man once and she'd always ignored those words but looking around the room made her wonder if the person who had started the rumor was right. Everything was destroyed and she'd never admitted it to Gatsby but the library was one of the few rooms in the house that she actually liked the decorations in. Holding the silver tray that the tearful maid Patsy had given her, Rebecca spotted the spiral staircase in the corner and walked towards it. The winding metal steps led up to what the staff called 'the tower'. Rebecca simply thought of it as Gatsby's space. He often retreated up the steps when he wanted to be left alone and she'd never followed him up the steps.

Walking up them quickly, every thought in her head floated away as she looked at Gatsby. He looked like he hadn't slept in days and exhaustion was consuming his body. A blank expression was across his face but his eyes were so sad. It was feeling that Rebecca knew so well. The startling realization that they had practically switched places nearly caused her to fall. She was finding joy while Gatsby was beginning to sink into a depression. Rebecca was torn between being sympathetic while at the same time feeling like Gatsby had gotten exactly what he deserved. The small table next to Gatsby was still intact and Rebecca walked slowly towards it. Setting the silver tray she was carrying down on its smooth surface, Rebecca looked down to see that her husband wasn't looking at her. Instead, Gatsby's gaze was fixed on the green light that was still blinking ever faithfully in the dark.

Slowly sinking to floor in front of Gatsby, Rebecca ignored the light and picked up the box of matches from the silver tray. The gas lamp that was on the small table came to a flicker life as she lit it. Giving some light to the otherwise dark room helped her to see. In the light, Gatsby looked even worse than he had in the shadows of the green light. He hadn't shaved and his hair was tussled. The man who normally looked impeccable to her was a complete mess. Shoving aside any worry, Rebecca looked to see that a blanket was covering his lap.

"Jay…let me see your hands," she asked him softly as she continued to knelled in front of the chair he was slumped in. Slowly, Gatsby pushed the blanket that was covering his lap back to reveal his bloody and bruised hands. A small gasp escaped her lips as she stared at his hands. She'd been expecting his hands to be bad but she hadn't been prepared to see them completely black and blue with bruises. Dried blood was on his knuckles and even some fresh blood reflected between his fingers. Rebecca could even see some shards of glass embedded in his skin. His hands were swollen and looked painful. Reaching her hands out slowly, Rebecca took one hand of his broken hands in hers and frowned sadly when Gatsby took in a sharp breath and winced.

"Why didn't you tell anyone about your hands?" Rebecca demanded softly, "You could have a broken bone or something. You have glass in your skin not to mention how painful this must be."

"I like the pain."

Rebecca's head shot up when she heard his hoarse voice. Gatsby had rested his head back against the back of the wingback chair with his eyes closed. He looked so tired that Rebecca didn't have it in her heart to chastise him anymore about his hands. She couldn't even bring herself to be angry about the destroyed library or anything. Grabbing a linen cloth that had been on the tray, Rebecca dipped it into the warm water before ringing it out. Slowly and methodically she cleaned up his hands and removed the few pieces of glass in his hands. It took her nearly two hours but she finally had rid Gatsby of the blood and had bandaged his bruised hands.

At some point, Gatsby had fallen asleep and Rebecca watched him realizing that in the three years she'd been married to the man before her, it was the first time she'd even seen him sleeping. His dark blond hair fell a little in his face and that once familiar feeling in her chest grew despite Rebecca's urgent desire that it stop. Watching Gatsby sleep, her heart picked up a beat or two and fluttered. His was a handsome man and it ached that she was so aware of it. Gatsby looked years younger when he was asleep and his boyish looks only added to his attractiveness. Impulsively, Rebecca grabbed another blanket nearby and draped it over the front of Gatsby. Tucking the blanket under Gatsby chin felt as natural. It scared Rebecca so much that she quickly stood up and moved away from Gatsby as quickly as she could.

Just being around him was bringing feeling to the surface that she wasn't prepared to deal with. As horrible as it was, Rebecca hoped that losing Daisy was create even more distance between them. Daisy had been her cover when she was with Matthew. Now that Daisy was gone, Gatsby would want to know where she was at night or why she was gone for so long. With Daisy in the picture, Rebecca hadn't been in his mind. Now Daisy was gone and Rebecca hoped that Gatsby would continue to think about Mrs. Buchanan. If his attention became directed towards her and Gatsby found out about Matthew, Rebecca had no idea what Gatsby's reaction would be and it frightened her. She guessed that if Gatsby found out about Matthew, he'd make serial killers like sane.

Looking over her shoulder one last time before she descended the spiral staircase, Rebecca watched as Gatsby slept. The shadows of the gas lamp playing on his face and the walls around them and for a brief moment, Rebecca wondered if in another life they could ever be happy together. As quick as the thought had come it was pushed away. She'd learned long ago that the 'what-ifs' of life helped no one and it was always a long, painful road to go down. There had been enough pain in her life that Rebecca knew that adding more wasn't a good idea. She didn't know how much more pain she could ever take before that pain consumed her very life.

Descending the staircase, Rebecca came face to face with Crawley. The old butler looked tired in his eyes but one would have never guessed from how the man stood with a ridged straight spine and his hands clasped together behind his back.

"I trust Mr. Gatsby is well ma'am," Crawley said in his gravelly voice.

"He's asleep," Rebecca said quietly, "I'm off to bed. Have someone check on him though out the night though. Wake me if anything happens with him and in the morning, we'll send for a doctor to look at his hands. Also, please send Tilly up to run a bath. Goodnight Mr. Crawley."

"Goodnight ma'am," the old butler nodded as Rebecca walked past him.

* * *

 **Three Months Later…**

 **Wednesday…May 7, 1923…**

No one was more surprised than Nick when he opened his front door in the early evening to see Jay Gatsby on the other side. Gatsby looked like he'd lost some weight but he didn't look as exhausted as he had when Nick had seen him briefly in late March. Rebecca had been worried about Gatsby and had begged Nick to come see him. Nick had gone wondering if his visit to Gatsby would do more harm than good. They'd sat together for nearly four hours and said nothing. When one of the maids had come with a dinner tray, Gatsby had eaten all the food and had asked for more. Nick wasn't sure what he'd done that day but Rebecca had given him steady reports that Gatsby was getting better according to Mr. Crawley and Gatsby's valet, Mrs. Blackburn. Nick hadn't heard a word from Gatsby since the night in the library and he'd always assumed that his friendship with Gatsby was over. Having believed that for so long, Nick wondered if he'd been incorrect about everything. He couldn't understand why Gatsby was on his porch.

"Evening old sport," Gatsby said in his melodic voice which was just the same as it ever had been, "Would you mind terribly if I came in to have a word with you?"

Nick quickly opened the door with a smile. If Gatsby wanted to talk to him, Nick was more than happy to listen. Rebecca had told him that Gatsby hadn't said a single word to her since she'd cleaned his hands up in the library. She'd brushed it off but Nick knew that beyond her mask she was worried and even if she threw herself into all her charities and organizations, she couldn't hide her worry. Her worry made Nick firmly believe that Rebecca still cared for Gatsby. She was simply hurt and looking for love with another man. Nick couldn't fault her but he didn't approve either. It wasn't his place to say anything to Gatsby but Nick wonder if his friend would turn a blind eye like Rebecca had done to him. Matthew would eventually go back to England and the affair would end just like Gatsby's affair with Daisy.

"Of course," Nick said, "Would you like some tea?"

"No thank you old sport," Gatsby replied as he walked into the house and down the hall to the living room. Nick closed the door behind him and followed Gatsby. The cozy living room was peaceful and Nick watched with interest as Gatsby stood staring out the windows to the old Buchanan Manor. Sitting down, Nick crossed his legs knowing that Gatsby wouldn't talk until he was ready to. After nearly an hour of silence, Nick cleared his throat.

"Jay?"

"I don't understand it," Gatsby said quickly, "I don't understand why she left. I thought I did everything right. I thought I made myself worthy enough to be the man she wanted me to be. I built her a house and filled it with beautiful things. I gave her anything I could with in my power. Was it not enough? I just don't understand."

Nick leaned back in his chair and sighed, "It's nothing you did."

"How do you know that?" Gatsby snapped as he turned around and looked at Nick.

"Because I know my cousin Jay…she and Buchanan are perfect for each other. He's a brute and she's a spoiled little girl who has a deep rooted need for affection. It doesn't matter who gives her the affection as long as she gets it. Why do you think she married Tom? He lavished gifts on her and she forgot you the minute he started buying her things. I'm sorry Jay but my cousin never loved you. She loved that you loved her. I don't think Daisy is capable of love."

Gatsby moved away from the window and sat down on the couch.

"My cousin and Tom use people," Nick continued, "They're selfish and cruel. Whether or not they know it, I don't care. The only people they care about are themselves. You're not the first man to fall prey to my cousin nor will you be the last. When Daisy and Tom are done using people they retreat away into their vast wealth and empty lives. You and I will never understand why they do it. I've been trying for many years to understand but I haven't understood and never will. It's just who they are Gatsby. You can't change Daisy no matter what. Trying to live up to the impossible standards she sets and giving her everything she wants won't win you her love. She'll love the man who gives her the most material things. Tom is taking her on a trip to Paris and the minute he told her that…she forgot got you again Jay. Why would you want to be with that kind of woman? She doesn't love you. She doesn't deserve you."

"I can't seem to help feel like a fool," Gatsby whispered.

"You fell in love with a woman but that woman isn't my cousin. With time, Daisy will fade from your memory. You'll forget her like she forgot you and it will be nothing like but a beautiful nightmare."

"I don't want to forget her. I want to remember everything because I want to remember what it feels like to be taken advantage of by a beautiful woman," Gatsby told him, "I don't want to make the same mistake twice. Daisy was so beautiful and kind. Every room she walked into…her smile lit up. She could make you feel like the only man in the room with a simple glance at you. There was just something about her…this passion for life and a thirst for it. She was like a rare diamond. Sparkling and perfect…she could forgive but she was always so honest with me. She liked to laugh and read…she was as smart as she was beautiful and she did everything with enthusiasm. Her kisses could make a man weak in the knees."

For the second time, something inside Nick snapped as he watched Gatsby carefully. He'd just described someone Nick knew well…Rebecca.

The woman who claimed she was incapable of love but Nick didn't believe it. She wasn't the kind of woman to marry someone she didn't have genuine feelings for. The fact that she had begged him to speak to Gatsby proved just how much she cared. She tried to bury those feelings deep inside and lied to herself that she wasn't using Matthew to cover those feelings up. She cared for Matthew, that was true but there had been a powerful driving force behind her when she'd married Gatsby. Nick refused to believe that it was gone. He simply believed that Rebecca spent her whole being trying to repress that force so she wouldn't be hurt again by her husband.

Nick knew Gatsby wouldn't have married Rebecca if there wasn't something more than business behind his feelings too. He'd married Rebecca even though he'd vowed to marry only Daisy. He had to have some feelings buried deep with in him. Those powerful feelings had allowed him to push aside his dreams for a brief moment and marry a woman who wasn't Daisy. It couldn't have simply been lost to time. Nick refused to believe that no part of Gatsby cared for Rebecca in some way. He described her very person when he described Daisy. There had to be something there even if it was faint. It made Nick only wonder if Gatsby had fallen in love with Rebecca at some point and only transferred how he perceived Rebecca to be to his image of Daisy. It was possible but now that Gatsby had finally accepted the truth about Daisy, he still couldn't see what was in front of his very eyes. The woman he thought Daisy was described the woman he married.

Even Elizabeth had agreed with him that Gatsby and Rebecca were so well suited for each other. Only they couldn't see it. They were both blinded by their own anger, hurt and grief. Clarity hit Nick again as he knew what he had to do. He had to show Gatsby that just because Daisy wasn't what he thought she was it didn't mean that the woman he loved wasn't there. He could put Gatsby on the right path but ultimately it would be Gatsby who would have to work to fix what had been broken. It would take time and energy but he would prove to Gatsby that Rebecca was the image of Daisy that he loved. He only hoped that he wasn't too late for both of them to realize there feelings.

"Why did you marry Rebecca?" Nick questioned, "You've always left that part out and I'm curious to know why you married her knowing full well that you supposedly loved Daisy and wanted to marry her."

"I didn't marry her because I loved her," Gatsby said quietly, "I married her for business."

Nick shook his head, "Daisy doesn't deserve you and you don't deserve Rebecca. It's a simple question Jay. If all you married Rebecca for was business…I pity her and you. You've spent months in this self-pity and depression. Life must go on Jay. It's time to forget about Daisy and move on."

Gatsby stood up quickly, "I'm going to be late to dinner. I'll show myself out old sport. Have a good evening."

* * *

 **Friday**

 **May 9, 1923**

Gatsby stared down from the library window at the gardens. Nick's words had been floating in his head since Wednesday and it was bothersome. He hadn't been able to accomplish much work and Gatsby had given up. He'd worked all morning but his mind kept drifting. He'd tried to return his mind to work after lunch but his mind still was cooperating. The veil of self-pity that had covered his eyes for months had been lifted but unsettled business still plagued his mind. Even though he knew the truth about Daisy, Gatsby was still unsure about other parts of his life.

Why had he married Rebecca?

It was the only answer Gatsby hadn't been able to answer satisfactory when Nick had asked. His own thoughts swirled around as he tried to answer the question for himself. His instinctive answer had been business but Gatsby knew it went deeper than that. He could have picked any girl out of New York society to marry. So why had he picked Rebecca? The question had kept him up awake the past few night as the many memories of his time with Rebecca had passed through his mind. He wanted an answer to Nick's question and he wanted an answer that he believed was satisfactory and truthful.

Standing at the window, he could see his own wife walking around the gardens with a book in her hand. She stopped and reached out to touch a rose petal and the soft breeze outside blew against her soft pink muslin dress. She picked the rose bud and held it cupped her hand as she walked on. Watching her walk around the garden, Gatsby was keenly aware of another time he'd watched her before.

He could remember that first time he'd watched her. It had been after the Great War had ended and he'd been in New York for almost a year. He'd already begun to make millions with Wolfsheim and business had been booming. He'd been at a party when Wolfsheim had pointed her out as the perfect candidate for their scheme. He could still remember the first time he'd stood on a balcony watching her from below…

 _…_ _Friday…November 15, 1919…_

 _Twenty nine year old Gatsby stood with his hands clasped behind his back as he watched the dancing on the dance floor below him. He stared at the many people wondering if they all knew what he did for a living. His education as a gentleman had only helped his business in ways that he couldn't imagine. His behavior as a gentleman opened doors to him that would have never been opened otherwise. His partnership with Meyer Wolfsheim was prosperous and was making him thousands and thousands of dollars._

 _People all over New York marveled at who he was. His mysteriousness only added to his appeal as he slowly bought the city. His status as a gentleman was solidifying in New York Society but Meyer had wanted more solidification. He wanted Gatsby to marry one of the daughters of the highest members of society. At first, it had seemed like an impossible task but fate had been working in their favor according to Wolfsheim._

 _Watching the fair haired woman dancing with Theodore Rimes, Gatsby couldn't lie and say that she wasn't attractive. At nineteen, Rebecca Harper was undoubtedly a beautiful woman. Her soft blonde curls were done in a stylish hairdo and a hair band that glittered with precious stones tied in a ribbon at the base of her neck. The diamonds, pearls and topaz of the black hairband twinkled in the light and matched the dark dress she wore. Snow white gloves encased her petite hands as she waltzed around with Rimes._

 _Even from afar, Gatsby could tell she was slender woman. The top of her head would barely reach his shoulder and he could probably wrap his hands around her slender waist. She was the woman Wolfsheim had pointed out in the earlier and the more he stared at her, the more she reminded him of Daisy with her blonde hair and soft smiles._

 _According to Wolfsheim, the beautiful woman was the oldest daughter of Edward and Katherine Harper. Rebecca Harper was the oldest sister of the now shamed Mary Harper. Rumors circled wildly around about the middle Harper daughter and the child she was pregnant with. Speculations hadn't ceased as to who the father of the child was and Wolfsheim had grinned when he'd told him that the Harper family was looking to marry their eldest daughter off quickly to conceal the scandal that Mary had created._

 _Rebecca Harper was the daughter that Edward and Katherine were so desperate to get rid of and the more Gatsby thought about it from a business stand point, the more ideal the plan became. Rebecca Harper could open doors for him that no one else could and in return, his wealth and New York's love for him would soothe the hurt that had happened to the Harper family. Wolfsheim was brilliant but Gatsby hated the brilliant plan._

 _Watching as the dance came to an end, Gatsby picked up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and watched Theodore Rimes escort Rebecca Harper off the dance floor. Rimes picked up two glasses of champagne from a waiter also and handed a glass to Miss Harper. The girl smiled and thanked him as Gatsby shook his head. He didn't want anyone but Daisy and when Wolfsheim asked him what he thought of the plan, Gatsby knew he'd put his foot down and tell Wolfsheim his answer was no…_

Leaning an arm against the window frame, Gatsby continued to watch Rebecca as she sat down on a blanket and read. Her beauty hadn't diminished since the first time he'd saw her that night. With time, she'd only become more attractive and it shocked him that he admitted that. Her hips had rounded out by the time he'd married her and any childhood fat had slipped away from her figure leaving a stunning woman in its wake. She'd taken to wearing her signature red lips stick and it often reminded Gatsby of the Grimm Brother's Snow White. Her lips were as red as blood and her skin was as pale as snow.

There was no denying that Rebecca was a very attractive woman. A man would have to be blind, deaf and dumb not to see her beauty. Wolfsheim often took pleasure in reminding him plenty of times that half the men in New York would probably kill him to get the opportunity to be in bed with such a beautiful woman like Rebecca. Her fully, pouty lips were like sin and sky blue eyes could ensnare a man's soul. It would be a complete lie if Gatsby were honest with himself that he hadn't once thought about Rebecca's body. He was only a man and he even he could admit that her long legs, supple hips, tiny waist and firm breast beckoned him at some point. But those thoughts had only existed before he'd married her. Those thoughts had existed when he'd first started paying calls to her. He'd been keenly aware of her body and youthfulness then and if Mary was anything like Rebecca…he could have easily seen why any man would be captivated by the Harper sisters.

Gatsby could still remember the soft pink dress she'd worn the first time he'd met her. The deep 'v' cut of the dress had shown off just enough cleavage to keep her dress respectable but she showed enough to keep a man's blood hot and wondering what lay beneath the silky fabric of the evening gown. Her hair had been pulled back into a soft hairdo where it was gathered at the base of her neck in some kind of elaborate style. Around her swan like neck had been a strand of pearls and diamond earrings had rested against her delicate ear lobes. Just looking at her had been distracting and Gatsby was sure it was a memory he'd never forget for as long as he lived…

 _…_ _Saturday…December 15, 1919…_

 _Gatsby was sure she had no idea how absolutely ensnaring she was to a man's senses. He'd spent the last month thinking over Wolfsheim's proposal and in the end, Gatsby could see no other way out of it. He'd agreed to marry Rebecca Harper but the moment Daisy came back into his life and he convinced her to be with him, Gatsby would leave Rebecca Harper. It was his final plan and nothing would change it. Rebecca might become his wife in the eyes of the law and church but she was never truly going to be his 'wife' in any sense of the word. He wasn't going to bed her and he sure as hell was going to have any children with her. Daisy was the only woman he wanted in his bed and she would be only woman birthing his children._

 _Oh, Rebecca Harper would become Rebecca Gatsby but it all stopped there. Rebecca would be like a beautiful piece of artwork. She'd be his hostess and companion on the nights he needed her but beyond that it would be nothing more. Getting her to marry him would be the hard part of the plan though. Gatsby would have to charm her and family but he knew that if he just imagined her as Daisy the whole time, it would make everything easier._

 _Watching her laugh at whatever had happened on stage, Gatsby could see the similar beauty she shared with Daisy and was grateful that his love and Rebecca Harper looked almost alike. As the curtains fell for the second act of the show, Gatsby stood up in his box and tugged his dinner jacket down so that it laid against his body correctly. Smoothing his hair back, Gatsby left the box quickly hoping to see Rebecca when everyone left their boxes for refreshments and to socialize. Going to the great hall that was the place where people congregated, Gatsby slowly worked his ways through the throngs of people greeting business associates, city officials and friends alike._

 _He finally spotted her speaking with a female companion. She was even more beautiful in the lights of the hall. Slowly approaching the two women, Gatsby watched as the girl Rebecca had been talking to slipped away into the crowd leaving her alone. Seeing his chance, Gatsby walked a little quicker and reached her before anyone else could._

 _"_ _You're the most distracting woman I've ever had the pleasure of seeing," her told her with one of his rare smiles as she looked at him with amusement._

 _"_ _Am I?" Rebecca smiled back at him. "I've been called a great many things but never that. I do hope it's not a bad thing sir."_

 _"_ _Not at all," Gatsby said as he took her hand in his. He pressed a soft kiss to her snow white glove, "In all my travels I've never met a more enchanting woman than you. I can barely pay any attention to the show."_

 _Her head fell back as she laughed and once she'd recovered herself, Rebecca shook her head._

 _"_ _You are the most charming man I've ever met. You're words are like a very sweet dessert. A dessert that is far too rich," she said. The lady could see through his charms and a genuine smile came to Gatsby's lips. She wasn't as unintelligent as he'd thought._

 _"_ _Am I Mr. Jay Gatsby," he told her quietly, "What might your name be?"_

 _"_ _Rebecca," she said as a soft blush came to her cheeks, "Miss Rebecca Harper, Mr. Gatsby."_

 _"_ _The pleasure of making your acquaintance is all mine, Miss Harper."_

 _He still hadn't let go her hand and gave it a soft squeeze, "Am I correct to assume that this opera is one of your favorites?"_

 _A soft smile returned to Rebecca's face as she nodded, "Yes. I do love it dearly."_

 _"_ _Well, then I shall forever be grateful to the composer for if he had not written it, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to see such a beautiful angel laughing."_

 _The soft blush that had graced her cheeks returned and Gatsby found that he quite suddenly enjoyed making her blush. There was something about it that he liked. She looked down at her feet quickly before looking up and down at the crowds below the box they were standing in._

 _"_ _May I call on you Miss Harper at a later date?"_

 _Her eyes quickly went to his and the way she bit her bottom lip brought a heat to Gatsby body that he hadn't felt since Daisy. He noticed how full her lips were and images of all the things a man could do with those lips flooded his mind._

 _"_ _Of course."_

 _The two minute warning bell rang and people below them began to make their way back to their respective seats as did the people in the boxes around them._

 _"_ _Till then," Gatsby whispered as he pressed another kiss to her hand before gently letting go and walking away without a backward glance…_

She hadn't been like anything he'd ever expected her to be. Rebecca turned out to be something completely different than what he'd thought she'd ever be. He'd been expecting someone who could barely hold an intelligent conversation and cared for vanity more than anything else. Rebecca had been a pleasant surprise in that the first time he'd called on her, he'd found her reading Voltaire. They'd had a lively debate in her mother's parlor about the philosopher and he was sure they'd shocked poor Mrs. Harper.

Rebecca was witty and teased him but all in good nature. She loved to hear him laugh and she equal loved to laugh also. Each visit, outing or party they went to, Gatsby learned something knew about her. She liked music more than arithmetic and enjoyed reading above all else. It didn't have to be any subject as long as she could read it. Her French was awful and her German even worse. She was far more proficient in schooling than she would ever be in needlework and she preferred live performances to all the new technology coming out that could make people move on camera.

Gatsby had filed away each piece of information all the while keeping Daisy in the back of his head. She had been the goal he had been constantly working towards and he'd hoped that the time that she'd forgive him for marrying. With each passing day, Gatsby had forgotten Daisy a little more until he scared himself beyond anything he'd ever experienced…

… _Tuesday…March 23, 1920..._

 _Her gloved hand was in the crook of his elbow as they walked down a cleared path in central park. The air was a bit chilly but Gatsby knew they wouldn't be out long. In the few months that he'd been seeing Rebecca Harper he'd come to care for her. He cared for her well-being and he didn't want her becoming ill because of him._

 _"_ _And the house is finished?" Rebecca asked him as they slowly walked, "Is it to your satisfaction?"_

 _"_ _Yes," he replied as he covered her hand with his, "It has come together exactly as I imagined it would in my head."_

 _"_ _Excellent!" Rebecca exclaimed happily and it made Gatsby laugh. In everything she did, Rebecca had an enthusiasm for life that he enjoyed. Stopping and looking down at her, Gatsby was stuck by how her lips looked soft. Parted, her lips enchanted him and Gatsby couldn't help but wonder what their softness would feel like against his own lips. They had stopped walking but the way she was looking at him was making it hard for him to keep his urges in check. Unconsciously, his hand slipped around her waist and he pulled her close. Her body fit perfectly against his and the friction of the fabric between them didn't help his arousal. Her perfume surrounded his senses and he couldn't quite figure out what it was. Whatever it was, it was just as entrancing as her lips._

 _"_ _So will you?" she asked him with a smile that wasn't completely innocent._

 _"_ _Will I what?" Gatsby asked her as his head dipped lower towards her._

 _"_ _Show me," Rebecca breathed, "Your completed gardens. I dearly love roses."_

 _At the mention of roses, Gatsby felt his whole body stiffen. Roses were Daisy's favorite flower. She compared everyone she loved to a rose. Horror swept through Gatsby as he realized that he'd been slowly forgetting Daisy. He'd stopped thinking about her and wondering where she was and what she was doing. He'd become so ensnared in Rebecca that he'd lost sight of his goal. His remorse stung and he quickly pulled away from Rebecca before he could kiss her._

 _"_ _Of course," he said stiffly, "I'm sure Elizabeth would like to come as well."_

 _Rebecca looked at him with a confused look but the look couldn't even compare to the confusion Gatsby felt on the inside…_

That day had truly left him so confused that it had taken weeks to feel normal again. Nearly kissing Rebecca had left him in an emotional wind storm that he couldn't have even begun to understand. Looking back now, Gatsby could see that what he'd been feeling was only natural feelings. She was a woman and he was a man. To feel desire was to be human and standing in that park he'd desired Rebecca. He'd felt that tug low in his navel when she'd looked up at him. But looking back again, Gatsby also knew he hadn't been ready. He hadn't been ready for those feelings. Early in his relationship with Rebecca, he'd been so wrapped up in Daisy that he'd barely been able to see straight. Having spent the past few months in a tunnel of self-pity, Gatsby was finally beginning to see the light and upon closer inspection, he could see the truth behind Nick's many warnings. He could see how Daisy had used him. He was scared to wonder if she'd ever really loved him. He'd done so much for her and had barely gotten anything in return.

That day in the park, Gatsby hadn't kissed Rebecca because of Daisy. He'd promised himself that the only kissed he'd ever give her was the one he had to perform at the end of their marriage ceremony to make her his wife. Beyond that, he hadn't planned to ever kiss her. Nearly kissing her in the park had scared and shocked him because he'd forgotten Daisy. For a brief, single moment he'd almost forgotten Daisy and kissed another woman.

That day in the park had been a turning point for both of them. Gatsby knew that Rebecca was falling in love with him. He could see the love sick girl in her smiles and eyes. She lit up when he was around and she always wanted to be with him. He knew that she thought she'd hidden it so well throughout the years but he'd always known that she'd fallen in love with him. The love he'd felt for Daisy had been the only thing that had prevented him from exploring his feelings for Rebecca. That day had only solidified Rebecca's feelings for him but the events had left Gatsby in far more confusion then he'd ever felt. Instead of speaking of his feelings to anyone, Gatsby had done the only thing he could think of at the time, he distanced himself. He still paid calls to Rebecca but he kept his distance emotionally and physically…

 _…_ _Saturday…April 27, 1920…_

 _The ring in Gatsby's pocket felt heavy. Heavier than anything he'd ever carried before. He'd always imagined Daisy would be the woman he'd propose to but it wasn't going to be. She'd already married Tom Buchanan and the name left a sour taste in his mouth._

 _Rebecca's hand rested lightly on his arm as they walked through the gardens of his newly built estate but her hand felt like a weight on the sleeve of his coat. She looked pretty in a soft blue dress and she was probably the most beautiful woman in his home easily but she wasn't who he wanted. He wanted Daisy and even though Gatsby knew in the back of his mind that Daisy would someday be his, Gatsby couldn't help but feel impatient. The whole business of marrying Rebecca Harper was leaving him with a sick feeling that he couldn't shake._

 _Pushing his feelings away, Gatsby reminded himself that everything he was doing was for Daisy. The future he was building for her required sacrifice and if that sacrifice was marrying Rebecca Harper than he would do it. He would do whatever he had to do to give Daisy the future she deserved._

 _"_ _I have a question for you," he said quietly as he stopped in the middle of the stone path._

 _"_ _Oh?" Rebecca asked looking confused as she looked up at him, "Is everything alright?"_

 _Gatsby gave her a tight smile as he nodded yes, "My question is more personal in nature."_

 _Reaching into his pocket, he slipped out the black velvet box and pressed it into Rebecca's waiting hands._

 _"_ _I was hoping you'll say yes."_

 _He watched as Rebecca lifted the lid and gasped in shock._

 _"_ _Are you asking me to marry you?" Rebecca asked in shock as she looked up from the ring to him and back at the ring again._

 _"_ _Say yes," Gatsby whispered softy. He wasn't even able to ask her to marry him. That would be too much for him. That would be asking too much of him and Gatsby wasn't even sure if the words would be able to come off his lips._

 _"_ _Yes!" Rebecca exclaimed happily as she took the ring out of the case and slipped it on, "Oh! It's so beautiful! It's so perfect!"_

 _Her arms quickly wrapped around his neck and the weight of her thin body nearly knocked him off his feet. Gatsby held her close as Rebecca hugged him tightly. He felt her soft, smooth lips against his cheek and just for a moment he left the feeling of her in his arms take him over. Her perfume invaded his senses and the cheek she'd just kissed tingled. Her body was warm against him and she was light. Just for a moment Gatsby let himself be lost in the moment._

 _Rebecca pulled away from him and broke the moment. Her eyes were full of excitement and they glittered joyfully in the soft, fading light of the evening. Reality came crashing back to Gatsby as he stared at the woman who had just accepted his proposal for marriage. He'd been silently praying that it wouldn't be Rebecca's face that he saw but Daisy's._

 _"_ _I shall be the envy of everyone in New York," Rebecca declared with a laugh, "Wait till my parent's see this beautiful ring! I can't believe you remember that I loved this one. It's so perfect!"_

 _Rebecca didn't give him a chance to respond as she grabbed his hand and began walking back to the house. With each step, Gatsby felt the noose become tighter and tighter around his neck. There was no backing out now and he could only pray that Daisy understood everything he did was for her. No love existed between him and Rebecca nor did he care for her. Everything was simple business transaction. A feeling of relief also passed over Gatsby with each step too. He had secured Rebecca's hand in marriage and he didn't have to play the part of enamored suitor anymore…_

Gatsby closed his eyes as the memory faded away. That day had only been the beginning. In the months leading up to their marriage, he'd had become increasing distant to her. Rebecca had tried to include him in their wedding planning but he'd ignored her. He only showed just enough attention to keep her parents convinced that he was serious about marrying their daughter but beyond that he did the bare minimum. His reasoning had been that he'd already convinced her to marry him, he didn't need to do anymore. So, the flower had stopped coming to her house and his calls had become less and less frequent. Every time she asked him if he was alright, Gatsby would lie and wave his hand. He always came up about something involving business but Gatsby had known the truth deep down.

He felt like a traitor as he had prepared to marry Rebecca. He'd vowed to Daisy that he'd come back and marry her but he wasn't…

 _…_ _Sunday….August 7, 1920…_

 _The floors were dark, polished wood covered by various Persian rugs. The walls were a neutral color with molding at the top of the high ceilings. Two large windows were opened to let the warm summer air in. The deep, heavy red curtains that were pulled back with gold tassels fluttered a little in the wind but Gatsby barely noticed as he stood in front of a full length mirror. He stood still as he let his valet dress him. Blackburn ran his lint catcher over the seams of his morning suit as Wolfsheim walked around the room staring at various paintings that lined the walls of the large dressing room that doubled as a reception room in his private quarters._

 _"_ _I don't know what you're so nervous about," Wolfsheim chortled as he held the tumbler glass full of brandy to his lips, "Do you have any idea how many men would kill to be in your shoes. Wealth and marrying a beautiful woman…the American dream indeed my friend."_

 _Gatsby didn't say anything because no words could form on his lips. He felt like a man being led to his death. This wasn't how he'd ever intended his wedding day to turn out. He'd always anticipated Daisy being the woman walking to him down the aisle but it wasn't going to be her this time._

 _He felt sick to his stomach as Blackburn buttoned his vest. Gatsby felt like a traitor deep down and even though he knew the logic behind the reason why he was marrying Rebecca, it didn't ease the feelings he had deep down. Gatsby hadn't even realized that Blackburn had finished buttoning the vest until the valet had opened a medium sized case that contained various fob watches in different makes and metals._

 _"_ _Sir?" Blackburn asked with a blank face that convinced both men in the room that Blackburn had no opinion about which watch was picked._

 _"_ _The silver one," Gatsby murmured as he pointed to the simple silver fob watched that he'd bought in London._

 _"_ _You're not getting cold feet are you?"_

 _Hearing Wolfsheim's words, Gatsby looked up at his business partner and shook his head as Blackburn retrieved the specific watch and began placing it on Gatsby's vest_

 _"_ _No," Gatsby answered calmly while he held out his arms to let Blackburn work, "Why would you think that?"_

 _"_ _You look like a man who's about to run," Wolfsheim grinned._

 _"_ _I'm not running Meyer. I know what an asset marrying Rebecca Harper will be. Don't worry so much. She'll be an asset to us and I'll see to it that we have every wealthy man in your pockets in no time."_

 _Meyer grinned even more and his gold tooth shined in the morning light that poured into the airy room._

 _"_ _That's my boy!"_

 _Gatsby merely smiled and tried not to lose the contents of his stomach as he thought about Daisy and what she would think if she could see him getting prepared to marry another woman…_

…Gatsby opened his eyes as the final memory finished playing in his head.

"I'm no better than Buchanan," he whispered quietly to himself in the empty library. The realization was haunting but accurate. He was no better than Buchanan because he'd used Rebecca and toyed with her just like Buchanan had used and toyed with Mary. Granted, there were differences between what had happened but the bottom line was that he'd used Rebecca.

He'd made her fall in love with him and then he'd cruelly ripped out the rug from underneath her. He'd given her hope about their future together. She'd told him how she'd love children and a happy home. She also told him about how she wanted to see Paris and other cities in Europe. She'd confided in him every failure, every hope and dream all for nothing it seemed. He'd been so caught up in Daisy and loving Daisy and trying to create the perfect life for her, that he'd forgotten the one woman who he'd made his wife.

Gatsby felt his failure deep inside. He'd married Rebecca letting her dream and hope of a wonderfully bright future and they hadn't even been married a day when he'd smashed them. Watching her below in the gardens was painful. She'd placed so much faith in him and he hadn't given her anything. Yes, she had nice things and place to live but he'd never truly invited her into his life. He'd told her not to change anything and took away any opportunity for her to ever feel like she was at home with him. He'd denied her attempts early on in their marriage to spend time together or anything like that. He'd built up walls between them and eventually she'd given up. She'd resigned herself to him and he couldn't help but wonder if she still dreamed of a family or travelling.

Had he killed everything inside her but her beating heart?

Watching her turn the page of the book, Gatsby knew he had his answer for Nick and it answer he didn't like. He'd married Rebecca for all the wrong reasons. He'd led her on and crushed her as hard as he could all for the sake of one woman whom he believed to be the love of his life. He'd always be grateful to Daisy because she'd given him the determination to become the gentleman he wanted to be but he wasn't a worthy gentleman. He wasn't worthy of the house he lived in or the cars he drove. He wasn't worthy of the money he made nor was he worthy of the parties he through. Most of all, Gatsby knew he wasn't worthy enough for a woman like Rebecca. He wasn't worthy of the generosity she'd shown him the night he'd destroyed the library. Nor was he worthy any other of the times that she'd been kind to him.

Shame filled him as he thought about how he'd brought Daisy into his house and the humiliation Rebecca had suffered at his hands. He wasn't worthy enough to call himself her husband and it made him feel sick with the knowledge of what he'd done to her. In that single moment, Gatsby vowed to himself that he would change.

He'd make himself worthy of Rebecca and maybe he could gain her friendship. It was the first step in mending the burnt bridges he'd created with her and it was the only way he could ever get over Daisy. He had to move on with his life because Daisy was the past. She was a beautiful nightmare of the past but mourning her couldn't be his future. He'd destroy himself trying to be what he thought Daisy wanted him to be and it would leave him a hollow man. Nick had been right on so many occasions when he'd tried to tell him that Daisy was vain, spoiled and childish.

With a new found clarity Gatsby could see his life and Daisy. The harsh light of reality shone and it wasn't how Gatsby ever picture his life being. The woman he supposedly loved a complete fraud and his personal life in shambles. Closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the glass, Gatsby let out a long breath. The green light hadn't been his future. It had been his past and for the first time, he could feel a willingness pass over him that he'd never felt before. He was ready to let go of Daisy and move on. All he needed was the courage to step off the path that he'd mapped out for himself and let fate decide how his life was really meant to be.

Rebecca read the letter that was between the pages of the book she carried with trepidation. It was written in Matthew's neat handwriting and its content was overwhelming but it was also the reason why he'd been so distant lately. He was apparently seeing one of the top fertility specialists in the world about his infertility and the doctor had discovered that the problem was quite simple. A quick procedure would correct the issue and he'd be able to father children if the surgery was a success.

It left her with the feelings of elation and fear. She was so happy for him that he might be able to have the children that he so desperately wanted. Rebecca knew that Matthew would make a wonderful father to some child someday and now he would have that opportunity. Fear also filled her heart because she was terrified of something happening to him during the procedure. Matthew's letter had assured her many times that there wasn't a thing to worry about but she couldn't help but worry. He was so dear to her heart that the thought of something happening to him was almost too much to bear.

His operation was happening even as she read the letter and she cursed him for not telling her about. She would be with him if could but Matthew hadn't wanted her to be there. She understood his fears of someone finding out about their affair and tarnishing her name but at that moment she didn't care. He was having something life altering done and she wanted to be there with him.

Folding the letter back up, Rebecca tried to focus on the words in front of her but nothing helped. Closing the book and standing, she walked slowly back to the house. She had been so focused on what was happening in her mind that she hadn't been paying attention to where she'd been going. Her body collided with another person's but warm, strong arms grabbed her before she could fall.

Looking up, Gatsby's clear blue eyes met her and every fiber of her being was aware of his warm hands on her. That same electrical feeling traveled through her body like it did every time he touched her. She'd never experienced that feeling with Matthew. It seemed Gatsby was the only person who could produce the feeling inside her.

"Are you alright?" he asked her awkwardly as he slowly let go of her.

"I'm fine," she said as her skin tingled from where he'd touched her, "Thank you."

Clutching her book to her chest, Rebecca wasn't sure what else to say. Gatsby almost always walked off after they'd had their short exchanges but this time he wasn't leaving like he normally did. Instead, his hands were awkwardly at his sides and he looked just as confused as she.

"Well…I have a few things to do before the end of the day," she finally said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

"Of course," Gatsby replied as he stepped to the side so she could pass him, "I have to go see Nick. He had a question and I have an answer for him."

"Send Nick my regards," Rebecca said before walking past Gatsby. She wanted to go up to her rooms and avoid him as much as she possibly could till tomorrow when she'd go see Matthew. She was almost halfway up the grand stair case when Gatsby spoke.

"Mrs. Gatsby," he said quietly.

Rebecca faltered in her steps unsure if she'd heard him correctly. Even if one spoke quietly, voices echoed off the walls and could be heard. Gatsby cleared his throat and she turned to looked at him. Dressed in a navy suit with a navy vest and gold tie, the thought struck Rebecca that Gatsby looked well. Something about him was different. For the first time in three months he looked sober and put together. With his hands in his pocket, Gatsby walked towards her till he was at the base of the steps. He looked up her and Rebecca couldn't control the small flutter in her heart.

She could lie to herself all she wanted but she knew that when it came to Gatsby, she'd always feel the sizzle of attraction. She'd felt the same sizzle of attraction since she was nineteen and it had never lessened. As Gatsby slowly walked up the steps she couldn't help but scold herself for thinking about Gatsby in such away. He'd hurt her and had slept with Daisy Buchanan on plenty of occasions. He'd brought the whore into her home and rubbed it in her face. It wasn't something she was sure she could ever forgive. She'd told Nick the truth when she'd said that she wasn't sure what she'd felt for Gatsby. She wasn't sure if she ever loved him or if she loved the idea of him. Rebecca wasn't even sure what love was and all she knew was that Gatsby had hurt her.

The closer he got, the more her heart fluttered and when he stopped two steps away from her she breathed in. The smell of his sandalwood and lemon soap filled her senses and pushed any thoughts out of her head that were coherent. She couldn't truly remember the last time he'd been so close to her and touched her. The only night she could think of had been the night in the library but that didn't count. Gatsby had been exhausted and had said nothing to her the day afterward. She'd received no thank you or acknowledgement of what had happened. Gatsby pulled a hand out of his pocket and rested it on the railing. His fingertips nearly touched her and the wild beating of her heart began again.

"Mrs. Gatsby will you be a dinner tonight?" he asked her quietly and his words nearly stopped her heart.

Never in the whole three years had he ever called her 'Mrs. Gatsby'. He'd always called her dear or Rebecca but never anything else. Any words that could have formed in her mind faded. It was all she could do to nod 'yes' that she would be at dinner.

A gentle smile came to Gatsby lips, "Would you play for me after dinner? I haven't heard you play the piano in a very long time."

"If you wish," Rebecca said hoarsely after she finally found her voice.

"Thank you…I'm most grateful to you for agreeing. I'll see you at dinner then. I don't want to keep Nick waiting. Have a good rest of the day and if you need anything don't hesitate to ask."

Gatsby turned and walked back down the steps leaving Rebecca feeling like she'd been hit by a hurricane of emotion. She couldn't remember the last time he'd been so kind to her. Normally he simply ignored her but for him to ask her to play…he hadn't asked her to play for him since she'd become engaged to marry him. Her knees felt weak under her as she clench the railing tightly. She wasn't sure if she was more shocked or suspicious.

Rebecca couldn't help but wonder if he was after something and she couldn't help but feel so confused about what had just happened between them.

Gatsby pounded on Nick door quickly. He had an answer for Nick and he didn't have much time till dinner. The door opened and without preamble, Gatsby walked into the house and went straight to the living room. The brief, confused look that Nick gave him was ignored. Nick closed the door behind him and walked to the living room with the same puzzled look on his face that Gatsby had seen before.

"Is everything okay Jay?"

"Ask me what you asked me Wednesday," he said quickly, "Quickly old sport!"

Nick stared at Gatsby hard as he sat on his chair in the cozy little living room still looking confused.

"Alright…why did you marry her?" Nick challenged, "If you never loved Rebecca why did you marry her?"

Gatsby was silent as he rested his forearm against the window and stared out at the bay. His mind was reeling as he thought about what had made him marry Rebecca. He had first approached her because of business but in the months he'd spent paying visits and courting her, something had changed and it had scared him. Whatever had changed had scared him so much so that he'd pulled away from her as much as he could when they'd become engaged. Looking back, Gatsby could see clearly why he'd pulled away. Rebecca had reminded him so much of what he thought Daisy was like that it had hurt. The more time he spent with her, the more he'd grown to like her and it had terrified him. His only solution had been to put distance between them and it had worked for a while. Now, Gatsby felt like the distance between them was as wide as an ocean.

"I married Rebecca for business," Gatsby finally said quietly, "I married her because I like her."

Nick's eyebrows rouse in astonishment, "You like Rebecca?"

Gatsby looked at his fob watch again and quickly put it away in his vest pocket. He didn't want to be late to dinner. In fact, Gatsby wanted to be early. For once he didn't want to keep Rebecca waiting or wondering where he was or who he was with. He'd spent most of his day reliving memories and combing through them carefully. Everything finally made sense in his life and now that he could see Daisy for what she really was, he could see Rebecca for what she truly was too.

A good woman who deserved a good husband and he was willing to try as hard as he could to be that good husband for her. If he ever wanted to move off from Daisy he had to start being a better person and husband sooner, not later.

"I must go," Gatsby said quickly as he left Nick in a confused state. Nick stared at him like he was crazy and in truth, Gatsby did feel crazy. He felt wildly confused and unsure of himself but at the same time, he felt like he was ready to try and move on from Daisy.


	11. X: Summertime Sadness

**Part X: Summertime Sadness**

 _"...Oh, my God, I feel it in the air_

 _Telephone wires above sizzlin' like your stare_

 _Honey, I'm on fire I feel it everywhere_

 _Nothing scares me anymore..."_

~ "Summertime Sadness" - Lana Del Rey

 **Friday**

 **May 9, 1923**

The last notes of the song echoed throughout the music room and Rebecca removed her fingertips from the keys. The music faded and Gatsby clapped quietly from his spot in the chair closest to her.

"You play wonderfully," he told her with a soft smile.

"Thank you," Rebecca said.

She was unsure of what to do or say next. The whole night was turning into a confusing twist and she was silently counting down the minutes until she could beg to retire. Gatsby had been charming and polite all night and it was unnerving to her throughout dinner. He'd asked her about her charities and the work she did within the city. He had seemed genuinely interested in knowing about everything she did in her spare time. Not knowing what to do, Rebecca had told him everything that he wanted to know. It had surprised her when he'd told her if she needed anything to tell him and that they'd host a fundraiser or something to help raise money for whichever charity needed help. Never in the length of their entire relationship had Gatsby ever taken such an interest in something she thought was important. The whole dinner had been confusing and she'd been grateful for the opportunity to retire to the music room.

She had hoped that her playing would build up the silence between them again, but it had done no such thing. Instead, Gatsby had tried to introduce different topics into the breaks between pieces. He asked her opinion on things that were happening in the city and he'd asked her about music. He wanted to know her favorite pieces of music and her favorite composers. He wanted to know if she approved of the music room and the piano itself. What had startled Rebecca the most was when Gatsby had told her if she didn't like anything in the house; she was more than welcome to change it. Whether it was a painting or the furniture in the parlor, anything she didn't like could be changed. It had taken her all her self-control not to tell Gatsby that she hated the whole house and that everything needed to be changed.

Going through the sheet music, Rebecca quickly found another piece to play. Before her fingers could touch the keys though, a knock came from the door. Gatsby swung around in his seat with a scowl firmly in place on his lips.

"They better have a good reason for interrupting," he said to her quietly before calling out for the person to enter.

The door opened and Crawley stepped into the room with his hands behind his back looking as calm as ever.

"What is it, Crawley?" Gatsby asked. "If it's someone on the wire, tell them I'll call back later. I'm in the middle of something important."

His words made Rebecca's heart pound in her chest as she stared at Gatsby. He'd never refused a phone call. Whatever he wanted from her must have been something quite serious and it unnerved her. Along time ago, she'd have been flattered that he turned down a business call for her, but she wasn't a naïve child anymore. She was a woman and the veil of innocence had been lifted from her eyes long ago.

"Pardon the interruption, Mr. Gatsby, sir," Crawley said. "Mr. Meyer Wolfsheim is here requesting an audience."

"You'll have to tell Meyer to come back later," Gatsby said as he put his hands in the pockets of his dinner suit. "Whatever it is, it can wait till tomorrow."

"I'm not here to see you, Gatsby."

All three of them looked over to see Meyer standing in the doorway. The older man wore a dark navy suit with a soft blue tie. His hat was in his hands and a sly smile was on his lips.

"Meyer," Gatsby said as he looked over at the older man. "Quite late for an evening call, old sport."

The smile on Meyer's lips grew, "As I said before, I'm not here to see you, Gatsby."

"Then I'm at a loss to know why you're here."

"I'm here to see Rebecca…Mrs. Gatsby," Meyer grinned and the whole room became still. Crawley's expression remained the same as did his posture. He showed no outward signs that Meyer's words surprised him. However, Gatsby looked confused as he looked from Meyer to Rebecca.

"What do you want, Wolfsheim?" he finally said after a few moments of nearly unbearable silence. Rebecca watched as Meyer's grin grew even more and a gut feeling told her it had everything to do with Tom Buchanan.

"Why don't we go to the library," Meyer suggested. "Let's talk business."

It took a moment for Rebecca to register that Crawley had left the room and Gatsby was staring at her. She slowly stood up from the piano bench all the while wondering if her legs would give out on her if she took step. The hem of her golden dress brushed across the rugs as she fought the urge to pick at her nails. The beaded dress shimmered in the light as did the antique diamond earrings she wore. Without a word, Rebecca walked through the music room to the door that Gatsby was holding open for her. She passed him and followed Wolfsheim to the library in silence.

The new library was nearly identical to the library that Gatsby had destroyed in March. A fire burned low in the large fire place and gave a soft popping noise at random intervals. Sitting down on the couch that was across from the fire, Rebecca watched as Gatsby sank into the chair next to the couch with an annoyed look on his face. Wolfsheim closed the door behind himself and Rebecca couldn't help the anxiety building in her chest as she watched Wolfsheim walk over to them.

"What's going on, Meyer?" Gatsby demanded as he looked up at his business associate.

"I thought you'd like to be here to celebrate," Wolfsheim grinned.

"Celebrate what?"

Meyer turned to her with a smile and Rebecca could feel it in her bones that Wolfsheim was about to reveal their plans to Gatsby. She watched as he reached into his breast pocket and procured a thick envelope. With each step he took towards her, Rebecca could feel her heart beat a little faster.

"A job well done, Mrs. Gatsby," Wolfsheim said as he held the envelope out to her, "You rival men that I know with your…skills. Enjoy the benefits of your hard work. The deed to Buchanan Manor and the money we agreed on that you nephew will inherit. I'm only sorry it took so long to get this to you. We had a few legal snags to get through, but now the deed is free and clear as is the money. You're now the proud owner of the mansion across the bay."

Rebecca tried to steady her hand as she took the envelope from Wolfsheim. It felt heavy in her hands and guilt crept into her mind as she stared down at the envelope in her hands. She barely heard what Wolfsheim said next but it was some kind of goodbye. Her hands continued to tremble, but Rebecca couldn't stop it. She was holding everything she ever wanted in her hands, but it wasn't enough. The pain was still inside and the knowledge that revenge did nothing to help her pain was frightening. It registered in the back of her mind that a warm dinner jacket was draped around her shoulders, but Rebecca didn't care.

Tears clouded her vision and she fought valiantly to stop them from falling. It took her only a moment to realize that Gatsby knew what she'd done and the haunting thoughts of what he'd do to her filled her head. The sound of a door closing caused her to look up and she watched as Gatsby locked the door of the library and pocketed the key in his dinner vest. Rebecca couldn't help the fear that flashed through her heart again. A voice in her head taunted that Gatsby was locking the door so that no one would witness her murder when he killed her. After all, she had been the reason that Daisy was now long gone. She couldn't help but come to the conclusion that Gatsby blamed her for Daisy's leaving even if it had been months.

Watching Gatsby, Rebecca quickly stood up trying to put as much distance between her and him. The dinner jacket fell from her shoulders and fell down to the ground. Stepping back till her back bumped against the back of a chair, Rebecca could feel her whole body trembling as she reached behind her and grasped the chair. Her body felt like it was a wire that was being stretched tightly. It was only a matter of time till the wire snapped and judging by the rate of her pounding heart, Rebecca was sure that it would be soon. No matter how much she willed herself to stop shaking, she wouldn't. Every part of her was on high alert as Gatsby walked towards her slowly. His face was calm and relaxed as was his body. A hand was casually slipped into his pocket and no tension existed in his body it seemed.

Gatsby picked up the black dinner jacket that had fallen to the floor and slowly walked toward her. Rebecca felt light headed when he stopped in front of her. She couldn't help but close her eyes as she waited in anticipation of the first blow Gatsby was bound to give her. Instead of feeling his fist connecting with a part of her, Rebecca's eyes flashed open when she felt the dinner jacket being put back over her shoulders. The fire crackled somewhere behind her as she continued to clutch the envelope in her hands. Gatsby's hand gently moved to cup her arms and he slowly guided her towards the couch she'd been sitting on earlier.

Sinking down shakily, Rebecca was startled even more when Gatsby sat down next to her. His hands covered hers and the feeling of him touching her sent a shock of energy through her system. She couldn't help but feel grateful that she was sitting because the light headed feeling became stronger.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Gatsby whispered softly to her as he reached into his vest and took out the key. Rebecca watched as he took the key and pressed it into her hands. The cool metal touched her skin and she clutched it tightly in her hand.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Rebecca," Gatsby repeated softly again as he caressed her hands. "I locked the door so that no one can interrupt us. I won't hurt you…you can believe and trust that, Rebecca. Now, tell me what deal you made with Wolfsheim."

Rebecca couldn't look up at him as she stared at the envelope in her hands. She barely registered Gatsby's movements or the tear that slipped down her cheek. It was only when the tear dropped to the envelope did she look up to meet the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. Gatsby was crouched down in front of her and his hands still covered hers.

"Our deal…our deal," Rebecca began, but stopped. Gatsby's clear blue eyes stared back at her but fear crept into her heart and mind again. He might have promised not to hurt her but Rebecca felt fear. She believed him when he said that he wouldn't hurt her, but the idea of trusting him and telling him what happened between her and Wolfsheim paralyzed her with fear.

"Rebecca…you can tell me," Gatsby encouraged softly as he lightly squeezed her hands. The offer was so tempting but Rebecca quickly yanked her hands out of his and stood up. Her mother's voice screamed in her head to walk, not run. The jacket fell from her shoulders as she quickly walked to the doors. Her hands were shaky as she tried to hold the envelope and put the key in the lock. Tears clouded her vision as she tried to put the lock in the key.

Arms wrapped around her from behind and familiar warm hands covered hers. Gatsby's hand guided hers to the lock and the key slid in effortlessly. Together, they turned the key and before Rebecca could yank the door open, Gatsby's hand left hers and rested against the door. He prevented her from leaving and the feeling of light headedness returned and she could feel herself taking short gasps of air. Her legs gave out under her and she could feel Gatsby's arm around her waist as she sank down onto the floor.

She'd experienced grief with Matthew, but the grief that was filling her heart in that moment wasn't like anything she'd ever experienced before. Holding the physical proof that proved she had destroyed Buchanan was triggering something inside her that she could hardly contain. It was like all the grief that she surpassed and all the feelings that she'd spent years pushing down were climbing back up. Strong arms wrapped around her pulled her close. Sobbing, Rebecca buried her face in Gatsby shoulder hoping that the pain would somehow go away. Her whole being hurt in ways she'd never experienced before. Not even Matthew's words of comfort did anything to help her. Clenching her eyes shut tight, Rebecca tried to control the tears that fell, but it only made her sobbing worse. Her shoulders shook violently, but the warm hand that held her to Gatsby's body never left her spine nor did the hand that cupped the back of her head. Giving into her grief, Rebecca let the barriers down as she sat on the floor of the library with Gatsby.

* * *

 **Saturday**

 **May 10, 1923**

It was late the next morning when Rebecca woke. The memories of the night before came flooding back to her and she instantly sat up. The familiar surroundings of her room comforted her as she pushed the heavy blankets of her bed back. She was dressed in the same silk dress that she'd worn the night before and she found her soft silk slippers on the floor next to her shoes. Standing up, Rebecca stretched quickly and looked out at the bay. The sun reflected off the water and looked like thousands of diamonds were sparkling. The view was so peaceful that a small smile came to her lips. Standing and looking out her window, the world seemed to slip away from her and the worries she'd felt passed. Rebecca had been so lost in the view that she didn't hear anything until Gatsby spoke.

"How do you feel?"

His voice nearly caused her to fall in shock as she turned around and looked at him. He looked just as tired as she felt and the haunting memories of him holding her in the library came back leaving an unpleasant feeling in her body.

"Fine," Rebecca said frostily.

She wasn't going to let one night change anything between them. She would figure out what Gatsby was after and she wouldn't let her guard down in the process. Leaving herself vulnerable to him wasn't a mistake she was ever going to make again and she certainly wasn't going to let him use her emotional breakdown from the night before to his advantage. Gatsby didn't look convinced that she was fine, but he nodded anyway.

"Tilly is running you a bath," he told her quietly. "I also took the liberty of ordering a lunch tray for you. You didn't eat much last night and you're probably starving."

An awkward silence took hold and Rebecca wasn't sure what to do. Never had Gatsby been in her room and she couldn't help but feel like he had invaded her space. He must have sensed her discomfort because he cleared his throat which caused her to look at him with a raised brow.

"I hope you enjoy your bath," Gatsby said quietly. "I also hope that you feel well enough to come down to dinner this evening. The staff is at your disposal, Mrs. Gatsby. Anything you need…just let them know."

Rebecca could only nod and watched as Gatsby turned. He walked into her sitting room and bent down to grab his silver fob watch from a small table near the rosewood settee that was from the 19th century. She spotted a white pillow and folded blanket on the settee. Rebecca was shocked at the idea that Gatsby had slept in her sitting room and she continued to watch him as he picked up his dinner jacket. He folded the jacket over his arm and left her rooms without another word.

"Ma'am?"

Rebecca turned to look at a nervous Tilly with a slight smile. The young maid gave a small smile back and bobbed a curtsy.

"Your bath is ready," Tilly said with a hint of excitement. "Mr. Gatsby ordered you a tray and it'll be ready for you after your bath if that's agreeable ma'am."

Rebecca nodded and without a word walked into the large dressing room. The white porcelain tub was full of hot water with steam coming off the surface. Standing still and letting Tilly unbutton the back of her abused evening gown, Rebecca looked at a mirror and was shocked to find her necklace and earrings from the night before gone. Looking around wildly, Rebecca easily spotted the glittering diamonds on the vanity.

"Mr. Gatsby wanted you to be comfortable last night when he put you to bed," Tilly said quietly. "I helped him with the earrings, but he took off the necklace on his own. He said that we were supposed to just leave the jewels there and let you put them away where you wanted."

Tilly pushed the straps of the dress over her shoulders and the silky material fell to the floor around her feet. Rebecca barely noticed as she walked over to the vanity. Reaching out, she let her finger tips brush over the cold diamonds of her necklace. A note was folded over the diamond earrings in Gatsby's distinctive hand writing. Picking it up with a shaky hand and quickly opening it, Rebecca felt herself sinking down onto the vanity stool as her eyes passed over the words on the page.

 _Your envelope is in the safe. I didn't think you'd want something so important to you kept out in the open. I wasn't sure where you wished to put your diamonds and so I left them out._

 _-Jay_

Setting the letter down, Rebecca couldn't help but feel angry at Gatsby. He was confusing her and it was infuriating. Standing up, she tried to push away the thoughts that were swirling around in her head. She wanted to enjoy her bath. Rebecca didn't want to spend any more time trying to figure out what Gatsby was doing because it would only exhaust her in the end and leave her with no questions answered.

* * *

 **Tuesday**

 **May 13, 1923**

Rebecca sat on the edge of the bed and let the letter in her hands wash over her mind. She recognized the elegant script as belonging to the Countess of Kettlemore. She knew that one day Matthew would have received a letter from his mother begging him to come back to England but she hadn't thought that the letter would come so quickly. Nor had she expected the emotional reaction she was experiencing to happen.

It was taking all herself control not to cry because she didn't want him to go. She didn't want Matthew to leave her alone in the world. Even if the thoughts she was having made her selfish, Rebecca didn't care. Matthew had wormed his way into her heart and she didn't want to have to give a piece of her heart away and let it go across the ocean. She wasn't sure if the rest of her heart would stay together if Matthew did leave. Scanning the letter again, she stared at the words and fought back the tears that threatened to fall.

"You're leaving at the end of the summer?" Rebecca whispered as she set the letter down on the nightstand next to Matthew's bed.

"You and I both knew this was coming sooner rather than later, my darling," Matthew told her as he reached out for her hands. "I know it's not fair, but I have to go, Rebecca."

Forcing a smile on her lips, Rebecca watched Matthew. He looked tired still from his operation, but according to his housekeeper he looked better. Color had returned to his cheeks and Rebecca couldn't help but be grateful for Matthew's good recovery.

"You look tired," Matthew said softly. "Is everything alright?"

His words caused her to look out the window to the sunny day outside. His words were true and she was tired. Gatsby was quickly becoming exhausting and she didn't know what to do. For the past five days, he'd been attentive and there was something that she couldn't figure out. She'd spent hours trying to figure out what he wanted from her but she kept coming up empty. He hadn't said anything about her breakdown in the library and she couldn't help but feel grateful and apprehensive. Rebecca couldn't shake the feeling that he was tucking her breakdown away somewhere in his memory for someday when he needed to humiliate her or blackmail her for something. It seemed like something Gatsby would do to her, but this new tactic of his was killing her. She felt like she was being lulled into a sense of false security and any minute he was going rip the rug out from under her feet.

"Everything was fine until you told me you're leaving. I don't know what to do or say Matthew," she told him quietly. "I don't know what you want me to do or say. I know that I want to go with you, but it's all dream Matthew."

A gentle hand cupped Rebecca's cheek and she turned to look at Matthew's bright blue eyes.

"I want you to go with me too," he murmured. "I would want nothing more in the world, but you and I both know that the scandal that would come of it would be too much for us. Our families would feel the effects of our recklessness and here the Harper family wouldn't be able to recover for the scandal. Your parents and Elizabeth would be ruined."

"Which is why I called it a dream," Rebecca whispered. "Besides, you deserve someone better."

"I want know no one but you, darling Becca. You're perfect for me and no one else can match what I feel for you."

Hearing him call her by her childhood nickname brought tears to Rebecca's eyes. She quickly dropped his hand and stood up. Matthew still believed that she was a sweet and starry eyed girl but in the end, it wasn't true. Rebecca could see herself for what she truly was even if Matthew couldn't. She was vengeful and held grudges. She took pleasure in seeing people destroyed and she was always in the game to win it. The sweet girl on the outside was a stark contrast to the flawed young woman on the inside. She wasn't perfect like Matthew believed her to be. With every passing moment, Rebecca could see herself as the complete opposite of Matthew's description. She was manipulative when she needed to be and sweet as honey when it suited her. With Matthew, the good characteristics came out, but the fact that he couldn't see her flaws bothered her. She wasn't as innocent as he thought she was.

"I'm not perfect, Matthew," she told him quietly. "I'm not perfect and I don't want to pretend to be. I've done things that I am not proud of. I'm manipulative and I can be cruel. I hold grudges and when people wrong me…I have a thirst for vengeance. I want to see those people suffer. Once upon a time, I was a sweet girl, but please, understand that I've grown up and I have flaws just as you do. I'm not perfect so please, don't say that I am. You wouldn't think of me as perfect if you knew what I did."

Matthew looked confused as he watched her, "What are you talking about? What did you do?"

Taking a deep breath and sitting down in the chair not far from Matthew's bedside, Rebecca clasped her hands in her lap. She knew it would easier for him to leave if he left knowing the real her. It hurt that she might lose Matthew's good opinion of her and possibly his love but she had to tell Matthew the truth. She needed to tell someone what she'd done because her conscious weighted heavily on her. All she'd believed was that if she destroyed Buchanan it would make her feel better about Mary's death. In reality, Buchanan's fall from grace did nothing to ease the hurt and only left her feeling conflicted.

"Tom Buchanan, he's left New York," Rebecca started quietly. "It wasn't by choice though, Matthew."

The confused look on Matthew's face faded and was replaced by a look of realization. Rebecca watched as he slowly shook his head and looked up at the canopy of his four poster bed.

"You and Elizabeth had something to do with it. She was giddy the day the news came about Buchanan. Your sister couldn't stop smiling when news broke about how Tom had lost his estate and nearly all of the family fortune," he said in a monotone voice. "You both had something to do with that."

"Tom was the father of Mary's son," she told him hotly. "I never told you who the father was, but Tom Buchanan is the father of Thomas. He abandoned Mary and his own child. He was able to leave town like nothing happened! He didn't have to do anything but make sure his name never reached the papers and thanks to his aunt, it never did. Instead, that aunt let my sister take the fall for everything! He was just as equally to blame for what happened to Mary as she was. Mary was thrown out of our house and Tom got to continue on bedding women without check. My sister was alone when her son was born and in the end, Tom married Daisy and my sister killed herself. So, when I had the opportunity to make Buchanan pay for what he'd done, I took it! Meyer Wolfsheim's sister also fell prey to Tom Buchanan. Together, we came up with a plan to get Tom Buchanan to gamble everything away. It worked and Tom fled New York because Elizabeth revealed what happened in Chicago. So you see, Matthew I'm not perfect. I won't pretend to be because I'm not sorry for what I did. I'm sorry that everything happened and I wish I could change things, but I can't. I feel remorse, but given a second chance, I would go back and do it all over again."

Rebecca could feel her heart racing in her chest as she breathed heavily. Every part of her was screaming to get up and leave. She didn't want to hear Matthew's response because she knew he'd be disappointed in her. She'd told him what she'd done but she didn't want to hear anything more. Standing quickly, Rebecca left the room without a second glance. She could hear Matthew calling her name over and over again, but she didn't stop as she raced through the house towards the front doors. A footman was there.

"My things," she snapped. "Quickly!"

Her whole body was tense and the feeling from the night before was growing in her chest. It was all she could do to keep herself together as the footman returned with a maid who was carrying her coat. Slipping the jacket on, Rebecca let the maid help her put a glove on each of her shaking hands. Not bothering to put on her hat, she turned just as Brighton opened the front door for her. She walked past him and down the stone steps towards the car. Brighton barely had a chance to open the door before she was climbing in. Sinking back into the leather seats, Rebecca blinked her eyes in a valiant attempt not to cry. The car pulled away from Ashby House and Rebecca couldn't help but pray that Matthew would find it in his heart to forgive her.

* * *

 **Wednesday**

 **May 14, 1923**

"The Hart's are throwing a party," Gatsby said over breakfast the next morning. Rebecca had barely been paying attention to anything as she continued to push her food around her plate with her fork. The warm summer air had come in and instead of having breakfast inside, Gatsby had suggested that they have it outside on the terrace that overlooked the bay. Rebecca hadn't protested to his suggestion. Her mind was still swirling with what had happened the day before with Matthew and she wasn't sure she even cared to eat. A voice called her name loudly and she jumped.

Looking up, she met Gatsby's worried eyes. It took only a moment for her to realize that he had been speaking to her and she'd ignored him.

"I beg your pardon," Rebecca said as she set her silverware down. "Please, say that again."

"The Hart's are throwing a party," Gatsby repeated as he looked at her. "I saw Mr. Hart yesterday and he said to expect an invitation in the mail."

"I have not received anything in the mail yet. Should I accept the invitation?" she asked as she watched Crawley stopped as set the mail down on the empty silver mail tray that was set out each morning.

"That is entirely up to you," Gatsby told her as they watched Crawley sort the mail and separate it to the correct side of the tray. Rebecca's stack was considerably thicker than Gatsby's. The moment Gatsby dismissed Crawley, Rebecca reached for her stack and picked it up. She could feel Gatsby's gaze on her as she discarded different envelopes. The majority of them were from the different charities she supported inviting her to different functions and luncheons that were held to raise money. The second to last one was the invitation from the Hart's that Gatsby had spoken of, but the last one was puzzling to her. The envelope was address to them both and she recognized the handwriting easily.

Not bothering to use the letter opener, Rebecca tore open the envelope and read through the letter invitation.

"Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Pratt have invited us to a luncheon next week," she said tossing down the letter and picking up her tea cup. "It's a silly thing for the new charity Mrs. Pratt is starting. Something about helping destitute women or something like that. It's in the afternoon so I'll just beg off that you're busy and I'll go."

"If the invitation was for both of us, I'll go."

Rebecca paused in adding sugar to her tea and looked up at Gatsby with an arched eyebrow, "You'll be bored. Besides, it's just a bunch of women sitting around gossiping. Hardly something you'll enjoy, I'm sure."

Stirring in her sugar, Rebecca picked up the invitation from the Hart's and used the letter opener to open it. Scanning through the contents of the invitation, Rebecca tossed it aside also and brought the tea cup to her lips.

"What day is the Hart's party?" Gatsby asked reaching for his own mail.

"The seventeenth of May," Rebecca replied after she swallowed. "You'd think Mrs. Hart would know that it's customary to give a bit more notice party. That would mean the party is this Saturday at eight o'clock. I feel like I should simply decline because of how late this is arriving."

"The Hart's were never good at party planning," Gatsby said as he put his mail back down. "I didn't see that we have any engagements this weekend."

"We don't."

Rebecca watched as Gatsby gathered his mail and stood before tucking the paper under his arm.

"I leave the decision up to you on whether or not we attend the Hart's party," he said. "I have an appointment at lunch today. I won't be home till probably late in the afternoon, but I will be here for dinner."

Rebecca nodded and looked away from him. She had nothing further to say to him and in all honest, Rebecca wasn't sure how to act around the new Gatsby.

"Rebecca," he called quietly and she looked up at him from the letter she was opening. He stood in the doorway of the French doors that led into the house with a similar look of concern on his handsome face from.

"If the food isn't to your satisfaction tell Crawley. You've barely ate anything the past few days for breakfast and you bare at anything today. If you don't like it, don't feel like you have to eat it," he told her. "You can change your mind."

"I'm not hungry," Rebecca said as she sat up in the chair more. "Besides, there isn't anything wrong with the food."

Gatsby looked at her like he was trying to gauge if she was lying or not. After a few seconds, Gatsby didn't look convinced, but nodded.

"If you feel hunger or faint before lunchtime just ask for a tray. I'll tell Crawley to make sure the staff has something on hand for you to eat. If you need anything just let Crawley know and the staff will get it for you. I'll see you at dinner. Have a wonderful day."

Gatsby left before Rebecca could say another word. His actions continued to confuse her as she looked back down at the barely touched plate of food in front of her. He'd never said anything about her eating habits before. Not even when she'd been engaged to him or when he'd been courting her had he ever said anything. To hear him asking after her well being was surreal. Slumping back into the chair, Rebecca could feel a headache coming on as she rubbed her forehead. Between telling Matthew what she'd done to Tom Buchanan and Gatsby's puzzling behavior, Rebecca had never felt so conflicted and confused in her life.

She was conflicted in her problems Matthew. It had only been a day since she'd told him the truth but she was regretting it. Telling him what she'd done had been the right thing to do but she wondered if it would have been better to say nothing at all. The truth of what had happened with Buchanan had been eating at her when he'd called her perfect. Telling him that she wasn't perfect had been relieving and horrible at the same time. Rebecca wanted Matthew to know that she had flaws and exactly what those flaws were, but at the same time she didn't want to disappoint him. He was putting her on platform and she wasn't sure that she could live up to that platform.

Disappointing Matthew was one of the last things she'd ever wanted to do. Fleeing his house before he could tell her off for what she'd done had been the only option before her at the time. Rebecca wasn't sure she could ever face Matthew because she couldn't bear to see the disappointment in his eyes. She'd rather live her life without having to face Matthew again and if that made her a coward, Rebecca didn't care. She cared for Matthew, she truly did but she wondered sometimes if he was in love with a younger version of her. Rebecca couldn't help but wonder if he loved a younger, more innocent and loving Rebecca Harper because Rebecca Harper and Rebecca Gatsby were two very different women.

Knowing he was leaving soon made her heart ache all the more but deep inside, Rebecca couldn't help but feel grateful that Matthew was leaving. They weren't the same young fools they'd been in 1915 when Matthew had gone off to war. She hadn't experienced life like she had now at twenty three. The fifteen year old Rebecca Harper had been sweet and loving but she hadn't lost her sister to suicide. She hadn't experienced an empty, loveless marriage like the one she was currently trapped in. At fifteen, Rebecca Harper had been bright eyed and full of hopes and dreams of love. She hadn't been vengeful and bitter nor had she been so easy to dismiss her principles or beliefs in the goodness of people.

Matthew wasn't the same young man either. He'd been gone away to war barely a boy, but Matthew had come back a man. She could see it in his eyes and she knew that he'd horrors that could barely be put into words. Rebecca could see it when he sometimes gazed off and looked like he was a world away. Pain would sometimes reach his eyes but he quickly hid that pain away. He was hurting like she was and found comfort in her arms. Rebecca knew she couldn't give Matthew the love he wanted but she could give him the comfort he so desperately needed. They used each other for what they so desperately needed.

Realization struck her hard as she stared down at her tea cup. It wasn't that she and Matthew were different people and had changed because of the circumstances of their lives. No, she was scared and worried because Matthew was the only person she truly trusted and cared for. He was the one person that she didn't want to lose. Losing Matthew would be a pain unlike anything she'd ever experienced and her heart wouldn't be able bare it. She'd told him the truth about Buchanan because he was the only person who could understand outside of Wolfsheim and Elizabeth.

Closing her eyes, Rebecca knew that Matthew would leave and she was dreading the day that would come and take him away. She didn't want him to go and for the first time she understood what her father had once told her about the world and fate being cruel. Life wasn't fair and she was certain once Matthew took the small candle light that lit up her dark life, she'd sink into the welcoming darkness forever cherishing her time with him. Standing up from the chair, Rebecca walked away from the breakfast table with a little more peace but she still felt confusion over Gatsby.

Gatsby's behavior puzzled her and confused her. She wanted to trust in his kindness but the last time she'd trusted in her feelings for him it had burned her. It had left her with a crippling wound and a broken heart that was still fragile. Her mind tortured her saying that the only reason Gatsby was being kind to her was because Daisy was gone. Daisy was gone and no one was warming Gatsby's bed. The thought of even being in Gatsby bed made her blush. It wasn't a place she wanted to be and it wasn't even something she wanted to think about.

Rubbing her forehead again, Rebecca went off in search of her housekeeper and hoped that the business of the household would distract her from the headache that was threatening to take over her mind from trying to make sense of her own life which was slowly beginning to resemble a disaster.

* * *

 **Saturday**

 **May 17, 1923**

The Hart family lived in the most fashionable part of New York in a massive townhouse that Rebecca doubted could even be called a townhouse. It was more like a mansion than anything else. The outside was made of grey stone with black iron accenting certain areas. Cars were lined up outside the front doors as guests were dropped off. Comfortably wedged in the back of the car between Gatsby and Nick, Rebecca could see clearly out in front windshield as Brighton inched them closer and closer to the front doors where the Hart's were greeting their many guests.

"The best of New York all comes out for this," Gatsby said to Nick. "The Hart's will invite anyone and everyone to these parties, old sport."

"So they've taken over your job of throwing parties?" Nick chuckled.

"Mr. Hart has a drinking problem and can't afford not to have these parties," Rebecca told Nick. "He needs these parties to keep up appearances within society. It's the only way people will tolerate him and his wife, Lilia. They have three girls that are in their young teens and will need suitable husbands soon. It doesn't matter where you go in the world Nick, the marriage market is vital to everyone."

"I'm surprised Mr. Hart can even afford this party though," Gatsby added. "Hart is up to his ears in debt, old sport."

"Hart has been borrowing money like it's going out of style," Rebecca said as she turned to look at Gatsby. "I thought you knew that."

"Of course," Gatsby smiled. "Who do you think he's asked for a loan on several occasions?"

"Please, tell me you haven't given that drunken fool money," she hissed back at him.

"I don't give out money to men that I know can't or won't pay it back," Gatsby assured her. "I charge high interest."

The car pulled up to the steps leading up to the Hart's townhouse. A servant dressed in a footman's garb stepped up and opened the door. Gatsby was the first to get out and quickly turned back around to help Rebecca. Knowing that they were in public, Rebecca let her gloved hand slip into Gatsby's bare hand. He let her slide out of the car and once she was standing, Gatsby tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. The action struck Rebecca as strange because he never touched in public or private. Sometimes on rare occasions he'd offer his arm if they were at a crowded party and she was continuously being bumped but usually he wore a look on his face like she was an inconvenience to him. Instead, Gatsby simply gave her a gentle smile as Nick exited the car. The footman closed the door and Brighton inched forward so the car behind them could pull up. In mild shock, Rebecca let Gatsby take control and guided them both up the stone steps to the Hart's front doors. Passing the threshold, the stood in the receiving line for nearly ten minutes before they finally reached their hosts.

Mr. Charles Hart was an average looking man with grey dark hair. His grey, wide set eyes and expanding waist line reminded Rebecca of a gnome that Matthew had described to her from his gardens in England. Next to her husband, Mrs. Lilia Hart was much more youthful. The woman had aged gracefully so far in contrast to her portly husband. Slim with dark luscious curls, Lilia retained much of her beauty that she'd been known for as a younger woman. The Hart's young daughters were not yet allowed to attend parties but Rebecca couldn't help but hope that they looked like their mother.

"Mr. Gatsby! Mrs. Gatsby," Mr. Hart boomed with a smile. "Thank you so much for coming. We're delighted to have you in our home this evening."

"Thank you for having us tonight, old sport," Gatsby replied with a soft smile. "I'm sure Mrs. Gatsby and I will have a wonderful time. You always have enjoying party."

"We aim to please," Mrs. Hart smiled. "Champagne is already being served as well as other drinks so please, help yourselves."

Rebecca simply smiled back as she felt Gatsby begin to walk towards the double doors that led to the ballroom.

"Mrs. Hart always reminds me of a horse," Gatsby whispered to her and Rebecca couldn't help the near giggle that escaped her lips. He was right as she looked over her shoulder to see Mr. and Mrs. Hart greeting Nick. Mrs. Hart while beautiful did resemble a horse when she smiled.

"She does indeed."

Nick quickly joined them and they slipped into the large, overcrowded ballroom. People dressed in all sorts of colors with different colored jewels, feathers and pearls were all around them. Joined together in small groups all over the ballroom, almost everyone greeted Gatsby as they passed. They paused plenty of times as someone drew them into conversation. The conversation passed by Rebecca so quickly that she barely remembered half of what she said.

Senators, writers, Wall Street big shots, billionaire publisher, bankers, gangsters, governors along with film stars, Broadway directors, government officials and socialites were all together in the Hart's ballroom. She recognized some from Gatsby's parties but others she had no idea. Gatsby, however, seemed to know many of them by name and greeted them with a charming smile and warm words. Many asked Gatsby about their parties and every time, Gatsby simply smile and say that he didn't know if he'd ever host such parties again. For the most part, Rebecca ignored much of the conversation and let Gatsby do the talking.

Her mask was firmly in place the whole evening and her acting skills were perfection as they made their way through the crowd of people with Nick. Everyone told her how lovely she looked and complimented her on anything they could think of that would gain her favor. She looked like she was having a good time and enjoying herself but Rebecca couldn't help but feel like something was missing. She felt distracted and disconnected from everyone in the large room. She wasn't sure why but she wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl back into bed. Just as she was about to tell Gatsby that her head hurt and she wanted to go, someone called his name.

"Mr. Gatsby!"

Gatsby stopped and looked over his shoulder. Rebecca couldn't help but look over her own shoulder too. It was easy to see the man who had called Gatsby's name as he sauntered up to the group.

"Who is he?" Nick whispered from his place next to her.

"Ares Patrick," Gatsby answered as the man in question stopped in front of them. "I didn't know you were in New York."

"New Orleans just couldn't hold my interest," Ares said as he offered Gatsby his hand to shake.

Rebecca watched with trepidation as Gatsby shook the younger man's hand. Never had she heard Gatsby or Wolfsheim mention an associate by the name of Ares Patrick. If the tension in the air was anything to go on, Rebecca was sure that Ares Patrick wasn't a friend. Gatsby's posture was tense as the hand shake ended.

"Nick," Gatsby said as he politely turned to look at him. "This is Mr. Ares Patrick of New Orleans. Mr. Patrick, my good friend, Mr. Nick Carraway."

"A pleasure," Ares smiled. "I'm always charmed to meet a friend of Mr. Gatsby's."

"It's nice to meet you as well Mr. Patrick," Nick said as he shook hands with the man.

Ares' eyes turned to her and Rebecca was given a good look at the man. Patrick was a tall man with dark piercing green eyes. Gatsby stood taller by a few inches, but they were both formidable men. Thick dark hair covered Ares' head and was parted neatly to the side. Sharp cheek bones and a roman nose with plump kissable lips made up his classically handsome face. Something about him drew Rebecca in as his eyes landed on hers. Ares Patrick held her gaze for a moment, but it felt like he was seeing inside her.

"Mrs. Gatsby," he said in deep baritone voice. "Mr. Wolfsheim didn't lie to me at all."

"What would Mr. Wolfsheim lie about?" Rebecca questioned.

"He told me that Gatsby's wife looked like an angel. I'm sure heaven is missing its most prized possession," Ares smiled. Rebecca could help the chill that passed through her.

"You have quite the way with words Mr. Patrick," she smiled back despite the chill the man gave her. "They're like a sweet that has far too much sugar in it."

Ares gave a deep chuckle, "Your wife is delightful, Gatsby. I must be going but it was pleasure seeing you again."

Mr. Patrick departed and Gatsby relaxed a little. Nick said something to Gatsby, but Rebecca wasn't listening. Near the French doors she spotted the tall figure of a man she knew well. Broad shoulders that she'd held on tightly to in the heat of pleasure and a narrow waist that she'd wrapped her legs around countless times. His striking blond hair and height made him as easy to find as Gatsby. She couldn't help the warm feeling she felt on the inside as she watched him chat with another man. He was dressed handsomely in tuxedo with tails like every man in the room. Every man in the party wore a snow white dress shirt, cream colored vest and white bow tie but something about the way he wore it made her body tingle. She couldn't remember ever seeing him look so handsome.

As if sensing she was in the room, Matthew turned and looked directly at her. He raised his glass towards her in acknowledgement and a small smile came to his lips. Nodding towards the French doors to the left of him, Rebecca watched as he excused himself from the conversation and walked towards the doors. He paused for a moment and looked at her before he stepped out into the summer night air. Getting the message that he'd clearly sent to her, Rebecca knew what she had to do.

"Please excuse me," she said quickly to Gatsby, Nick and two other gentlemen who had joined the group. "I'm just going to go see a friend. I'll be back soon."

Not waiting for a reply from any of the men, Rebecca weaved her way through the crowd towards the open French doors that led to the vast gardens outside. Stepping out onto terrace, she looked over her shoulder to see that Gatsby's back was to her and he was still conversing with the two men. Nick though was staring right at her with a knowing looking. Pressing her index finger against her lips, Rebecca turned and spotted the tumbler that Matthew had been holding when he'd stepped outside. It was sitting on smooth stone at the very top of a set of stairs that descending down into the gardens.

Rebecca heard her heels click and clack against the twelve stone steps as walked down them. The noise from the party faded as she slowly walked down the twisting and turning path that was leading her deeper into the garden. The full moon above her lit the way and helped her to see in the darkness. Just as Rebecca was about to give up and return to the party, strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her close.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," Matthew whispered into her ear.

Turning in his arms to look at him, Rebecca couldn't help but smile. His familiar scent toyed with her senses and the familiar warmth she always felt between her legs when he touched her hit her head on like a train.

"You aren't an easy man to find," she whispered back to him. "I was beginning to think you had me on a goose chase."

"I'm insulted you'd ever think that," he teased her before he lowered his head to hers. His lips were close to her when she looked away. Kissing him wasn't what she wanted in that moment.

"Darling?"

Looking back into his confused blue eyes, Rebecca couldn't help the lone tear that slipped down her cheek.

"You must hate me," she whispered.

"I don't hate you," Matthew chuckled as a smile lit his lips. "All I want to do is kiss you. It's all I've wanted to do for days."

"How can you want to kiss me after everything I told you?" Rebecca asked desperately. "You should hate me after everything I did. It was so…there aren't any words to describe what I did. How can you even smile now?"

"Because I understand why you did it," Matthew told her softly. "I understand it. You never gave me a chance to finish our conversation. Let me finish this now without interruption."

Rebecca clasped her hands in front of her nervously and nodded as Matthew's hand moved away from her body.

"I understand why you did it," he said again as he cupped her cheeks. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you. Despite what you said, I know you're not perfect. It's your flaws that make me think you are perfect. We all have a dark side to us, darling. The war proved that to me and I know now my own darkness lurks within. I know you have flaws and I can't blame you for wanting to hurt someone who hurt your family. I'm in no place to judge you and I don't want to judge you. You telling me what you did…you trusting me enough…Rebecca, that's all I want. All I want is for you to trust me and know that I'm not just your lover. I was first your friend and I will always remain your most devoted friend. Even when I leave for London…all you have to do is write a letter calling me back to you and I will move heaven and earth to do so. You're the only woman I want and I wish to God I'd begged you to wait for me. I wish I had every day. I love you and I don't care about anything beyond that. I could never hate you, you must know that."

Tears fell from Rebecca's eyes as looked up at him sadly, "Take me with you to London."

"You know I can't do that, darling," he told her softly. "You know I would if I could in a heartbeat, but I can't. There's nothing more in the world I wish I could do. My darling, we do have one thing that no one can take away from us."

"What is that?" Rebecca asked tearfully. "What could that possibly be?"

"Memories," Matthew whispered as he rested his forehead against hers. "I will always carry the memories I've made with you to the grave. Memories that no one else but me can see and memories of our time together are so precious to me that they're worth more than all the jewels in the world. All I want is to steal as many memories as I can with you in this lifetime. With the time we have left…make memories with me, darling."

* * *

"Have you seen my wife, old sport?"

The choice of words caused Nick to look up. He'd heard the same words come out of Tom Buchanan's lips last summer and now, a concerned looking Gatsby stood in front of him. Gatsby used his height to an advantage as he scanned the crowd inside Lilia Hart's ballroom. The party had been in full swing for hours and at some point, Rebecca had slipped away from them and was missing.

"I'm sure she's around her somewhere," Nick said trying not to show he was nervous. He'd seen Matthew Spring leave earlier and he'd watched Rebecca leave the party minutes after Matthew had. He knew that Rebecca was more likely than not still with the Earl. Looking around the room with Gatsby, Nick knew that Gatsby would eventually find out about the other man in Rebecca's life.

"I'll go check the gardens," Gatsby said off hand and Nick couldn't help but swallow nervously. If Gatsby found Matthew and Rebecca together locked in the heat of passion…Nick wasn't what Gatsby would do. He could just imagine Gatsby beating Matthew Spring to death. He wouldn't put it past Gatsby. Nick had seen Gatsby angry on only one occasion but he could understand why Rebecca had told him she tried to avoid an angry Gatsby.

Following Gatsby outside to the large Terrace that held many table and chairs, Nick watched Gatsby look around for a moment.

"I always hated Hart for how he designed these monstrosities he calls a garden," Gatsby huffed, "This damn thing is split into three levels. It's a pain to try and navigate this damn thing in day light but it's the only place that I haven't checked. Mrs. Hart told me she saw Rebecca leave the party nearly an hour and a half ago for the terrace. She's probably somewhere in the gardens."

Nick felt trepidation as he followed Gatsby down the many winding paths. He knew that if Rebecca didn't want to be found, Gatsby probably wouldn't find her. They searched the first level patios and shaded paths and second level. Nick was sure that in the daylight, the Hart gardens were beautiful but Gatsby had been right. It was hard to see in the dark and the many paths were complete loop. Nick could understand how people would get lost and confused with the lay out. Standing on the second level terrace, Nick looked out at the grounds.

"The garden covers nearly six acres of land," Gatsby said before he took a long drink from the champagne flute he'd been carrying around. "Hart likes to show off."

"Who does that remind me of?" Nick teased.

"I claim that I was under the influence. I wasn't myself."

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes before Nick spoke up again.

"Who is Ares Patrick?" he asked. "He seemed to know you…you didn't look happy to see him."

Gatsby swirled the liquid in his glass, "Ares Patrick is a very large player in New Orleans. He owns nearly half the gaming hells in New Orleans and prostitution rings in the state of Louisiana. He's a nasty son of a bitch."

"Do you do business with him?"

"I religiously avoid trying to do business with him, but the New Orleans market is a big one. In order to get into that market, Wolfsheim and I have to talk business with him. Believe me when I say that I'm not looking forward to anything involving Ares Patrick. He's not exactly the kind of man you want to acknowledge was at your dinner table. "

"You're expanding?" Nick asked trying to change the subject.

"Exploring," Gatsby corrected. "Exploring new revenues for business. You can't have all your fingers in one pie, Nick. You have to have multiple sources of income. That's the problem with people today. They're investing everything and putting all their eggs in one basket."

"So, you're exploring with Patrick," Nick said as he slipped his hands into his pockets.

"Unfortunately, but with any luck it will only be a day. One day is all it will take to convince Wolfsheim that we don't want to do business with that bastard," Gatsby replied. "Well, let's look at this last level."

Just as they were getting ready to descend the steps to the third and final level, Gatsby stopped and Nick could see what had caught his attention in the shadows below them. It was so dark out, but Nick could make out the face of the woman. It was Rebecca in the arms of a man. She was against a stone wall and the top of her dress was around her waist. The man she was with was pressing kisses against her skin, but he quickly returned to kissing her lips. The only thing they could see was the outline of the man but Nick knew without a doubt it was the Earl. The kiss broke and Rebecca's head fell back against the stone. Her eyes were clenched shut and her hands in tight fits as she held on to the man's dinner jacket. Her left arm was wrapped around the man's waist and Nick could see more as his eyes adjusted to the dark. The Earl's left arm was wrapped around Rebecca's waist and it was obvious his right hand was between their bodies.

Looking away, Nick stared at Gatsby as he stared at his own. His fists were clenched tightly as he held onto the glass of champagne. Anger was clearly written across his features and his whole body looked tense.

"Jay, you can't blame her," Nick said softly. "She…she's lost and we do things that we don't really mean to do when we're lost."

Gatsby didn't say anything as he stared at Rebecca. Nick could see the tension in body growing at each silent gasp Rebecca gave into the night. A hoarse gasp came from below them and heavy breathing. Nick knew what had happened and hoped that everything was over as he looked at Gatsby.

Gatsby tipped back the rest of the champagne in the nearly empty flute he had been carrying with him. Without a word, Nick watched as Gatsby turned away and walked back towards the party. The tension was still clear in his body and Nick couldn't help but to wonder if Gatsby finally understood what Rebecca felt in seeing her husband with Daisy Buchanan.


	12. XI: I Can't Stop

**Part XI: I Can't Stop**

 _"...I can´t stop_  
 _I can´t stop_  
 _I can´t stop_  
 _I can´t stop..."_

~ "I Can't Stop" - Flux Pavillion

 **Saturday**

 **May 17, 1923**

Gatsby watched as she poured herself a cup of tea and dismissed Crawley. Rebecca had been quiet since they'd left the party, but there was a bubbling happiness to her. Had Gatsby not seen her with her lover, he'd have almost thought that she was happy with the night she'd had with him. Watching her now though, Gatsby could see she was happy and it angered him beyond all reason that she wasn't happy with him.

Rationally, Gatsby knew he was a hypocrite for feeling the way he did. He'd offered Rebecca nothing to be happy about. In all the time he'd known her, only once had he kissed her and that kiss hadn't been anything noteworthy. She'd come to him on their wedding night wearing a nightgown that would have driven any hot blooded male insane with passion and lust. As much as he had tried to forget that night, Gatsby was grateful he hadn't because every detail was etched into his memory. He could remember the way her long blonde hair had fallen in soft curls around her shoulders, the way light had shimmered off the satin and lace negligee she'd worn while she'd stood before him bravely. French perfume had permeated the air and just thinking about that memory let Gatsby smell the perfume again. She'd been a beautiful, willing bride and he'd turned her away. He'd pushed her away first and had told her not to return to him again. He'd scared her away and he had no one else to blame but himself.

Now, knowing that she was in the arms of another man, Gatsby felt feelings he could only describe as anger and jealously. His feelings were irrational to him. He was angry that another man was bringing her pleasure and he was jealous that it wasn't him. The realization that he wanted his wife nearly took the air out of Gatsby's lungs. The physical attraction that he'd always felt for her was simmering just beneath the surface and he could feel it creeping up low in his body.

Staring at her, Gatsby knew it wasn't hard to be attracted to a woman like Rebecca. Her curves were soft and her lips looked more than kissable. When she bit her bottom lip, it only made him ache inside more than he ever had before. It only made him wonder if in private she was noisemaker or a woman who kept quiet when she was on the cusps of passion. Her thin waist and generous bust would easily entrance any man. The curves to her hips gave her whole body an hourglass shape that many women would kill for and her delicate ankles turned him on for some reason that he didn't know. Just looking at Rebecca, Gatsby could see why any man would go after her. She was beautiful woman with a husband who neglected her to the point of abuse.

He couldn't blame her for seeking the love and affection.

Every woman needed those things and she'd sought it out elsewhere when it was clear he'd never give her those things. He may have married her, but he had no claim to her. In the three years they'd been married, he'd never done anything to gain her loyalty or honor. He'd given her nothing and in return, she'd tried to give him everything. It hurt to acknowledge the truth, but Gatsby knew he had to. It was the only way he'd ever be able to fix things between them. Divorce simply wasn't an option because of what Mary had done. Maybe if Mary hadn't fallen with child, the Harper family could have withstood the scandal of their oldest daughter divorcing her husband, but they couldn't and Gatsby had a feeling that Rebecca knew that was the truth as well.

Nick had tried to talk to him earlier, but he hadn't listened. He could see now what Nick was trying to tell him. Everything he wanted was already before in the form of Rebecca.

The house, the gaudy furniture, Daisy…

Everything was in the past and he needed to let it go. Instead of pining after a woman that he could never have, Gatsby knew he should have spent the past three years building a life with Rebecca. A startling thought entered his head and he wondered if he hadn't been so obsessed with Daisy, would they have had children by now? Would there be some sweet blue eyed little girl fast asleep in the nursery with her baby brother nearby? Would they have had three children back to back or would they have waited?

It almost hurt to think about as Gatsby realized how much time he'd wasted pining for Daisy. Three long years, he'd spent wishing for a woman that was never his to begin with. For those three years, he'd neglected Rebecca. He'd humiliated her and abandoned her more times than he could count and with each moment, Gatsby's resolve strengthened.

He wanted to be the husband Rebecca deserved.

He didn't want to watch her skip from man to man looking for what he could, should and would easily give her. Gatsby knew they had feelings for each other. He knew they did. Rebecca wouldn't have married him if she hadn't had any feelings for him. He was sure of that. Gatsby could only hope that he hadn't destroyed most of the feelings she had for him with all his behavior and neglect. The feelings they both shared could grow into something beautiful. It would take time, patience and lots of persistence, but he would do anything to prove to Rebecca that they could be happy together.

It was her voice that finally drew him out of his planning as she sat down with her cup of tea.

"You've been quiet," she commented. "Is something the matter?"

"No," Gatsby said as he clenched his fists in his lap. "Nothing at all."

It was taking all his self-control to resist the urge to lash out and figure out exactly who the man had been with his hand between her legs. Never had he wanted to cause another man so much pain in his entire life. Not even Tom Buchanan had ever tested his self-control like Rebecca's lover was doing now, Gatsby mused as he continued to watch her.

Rebecca arched a brow at him. It was clear from the look on her face that she didn't believe him, but she let his lie slide. Gatsby wasn't sure if it was because she didn't want to talk about their problems or because she simply didn't care. Either option was logical, but Rebecca was hardly ever logical to him. She was like a complex puzzle that was constantly changing and he liked that about her. The complexity once kept him on his toes and kept him intrigued…it still did.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" he asked her quietly as she sipped her warm tea.

"I did," Rebecca said with a soft smile as she stared into the fire that one of the maids had started earlier in the fireplace. "I liked getting to see different people and meeting them. I was especially interested in Mr. Ares Patrick. Who is he? He rather came out of nowhere."

Gatsby couldn't help the way his spine felt chilled. Ares wasn't a man for any woman to get involved with and he couldn't help but pity the poor girl who married the sadistic, pigheaded son of a bitch. It was common knowledge to most men in their circles that Ares liked to inflict pain on the women he took to his bed. Their pain became his pleasure in the most disgusting and depraved ways. Gatsby made a note in the back of his mind to never let Ares be alone with Rebecca. He hadn't like the way Patrick looked at her earlier in the evening and he would make damn sure that she never was around the pig again.

"Ares Patrick is a man from New Orleans," Jay told her quietly. "He's not someone you want to be friends with Rebecca. Don't trust him."

"But you're friends with him," she reasoned with another arched brow in his direction. "Surely, he's not that bad."

"Ares Patrick and I aren't friends. I can't even describe his character. You're my wife and you don't need to hear the particulars about a man like him. Just trust when I say that he's not someone we'll be entertaining in any capacity," Gatsby said as the fire crackled. "Ares Patrick is the last man I want in my house."

Rebecca nodded and looked down at her saucer and tea cup, "I will be sure to let Crawley know not to let Mr. Patrick into the house should he show up on the door step. I trust that is agreeable?"

Gatsby didn't say anything more but watched her as they lapsed back into silence. The snow white gloves that she'd worn earlier in the evening were gone as was the diamond bracelet she'd been wearing. The necklace and earrings were still on her person and they sparkled in the dim lighting of the room. The black dress she wore was beaded and sparkled as well. Watching her, Gatsby could see the almost angelic like quality about her appearance that drew so many people in. Her blonde hair had been styled back into an elegant up-do and a few soft wisps of curl were at the base of her neck. The urge to reach out and touch the soft, smooth skin of her neck and wrap his finger around that teasing curl was almost overwhelming to Gatsby.

The whole idea of touching her and making her his was overwhelming, but he wasn't turned on in the slightest about taking a woman against her will. No, when he and Rebecca finally did go to bed together, Gatsby wanted her to be in the heights of pleasure. He wanted her to experience pleasure unlike anything else she'd ever experienced before. He wasn't sure how much she'd learned about sex, but he wanted to teach her everything he knew and so much more. Gatsby wanted to teach her just how much pleasure their bodies could bring them and the hundreds of positions that they could do that would bring them that pleasure in varying degrees.

Even more so, Gatsby wanted to explore every inch of her body. He wanted to know every part of her in great detail. There was so much he wanted to do and as the many images his mind conjured up of them together in the throes of passion, Gatsby could feel himself hardening. Just the thought of Rebecca naked made his blood boil with desire. All of a sudden, Rebecca stood up and returned her tea cup and saucer to the tray that had been set out.

"I'm going to retire for the night," she announced before she moved towards the door. "Goodnight."

"Rebecca," Gatsby said as he stood up and she stopped.

She turned back and looked at him with curiosity as he walked towards her slowly. Within seconds, he was standing in front of her and Gatsby couldn't help himself as he raised a hand and cupped her cheek. Tension was visible in her features and when he touched her, Rebecca's whole body stiffened. Her skin was smoother than he ever imagined it to be. The urge to close the space between them and kiss her was the strongest it had been all night. Removing his fingertips from her skin was nearly impossible, but Gatsby forced himself to do it. The feeling of her skin lingered on his fingertips as his whole body felt like he'd been plunged into an inferno of desire.

"Y-y-y-yes?" she asked in a shaky voice. Her eyes never met his. Instead, her eyes focused on something near the floor.

"You looked beautiful tonight," Gatsby said.

His words caused her to look up and he could see she was fighting with herself about something. He wasn't sure what but eventually, Rebecca gave him a small smile and turned the door knob.

"Goodnight," she repeated before disappearing.

"Good…can't even being to describe this night," Gatsby mumbled to the empty room before walking towards the whiskey decanter and pouring himself a generous amount. Collapsing down into the chair he'd been sitting in earlier, Gatsby loosened his bowtie as he rested his head back and tried to erase the images of Rebecca and her lover from his mind.

* * *

 **Friday**

 **May 23, 1923**

Despite it nearly being June, the weather had taken a nasty turn. Rebecca stood in the music room as she stared out at the dismal weather wondering if she could use the weather as an excuse to beg off from attending Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Pratt's party. It wasn't that she was tired or anything, Rebecca just didn't want to go and socialize with others. Mrs. Pratt's parties were often long and tedious on a good day. She couldn't imagine how this party would any different from the rest but Mrs. Sloane insisted it would be earlier in the week when they'd met for tea in New York. Realizing that she'd faithfully promised Mrs. Sloane to be there, Rebecca sighed and turned away from the window.

Walking slowly from the library to her rooms, Rebecca quickly summoned Tilly to begin getting ready for the party. Fighting every instinct in her that screamed at her to go back to bed, Rebecca was grateful Tilly arrived quickly before she could convince herself not to go to the party. A bath was quickly drawn as Tilly prattled on and on about the staffing service and the gossip that was going around. Tuning out Tilly was easy as Rebecca let the young woman attend to her.

A little over an hour later, she was ready to go. Checking herself in a mirror, Rebecca couldn't help but look at the woman in the mirror and feel like she barely knew who was staring back at her. The pretty cream colored dress with black lace and fringe complimented her figure perfectly as did the pearl necklace and earrings she wore. Standing in front of the mirror was a beautiful woman and the wife of one of the wealthiest men in the country. She looked the part of the person she was supposed to play but Rebecca couldn't help but feel like she was losing herself in the part.

She knew that people changed as they became older. Experiences shaped them and life changed them but she didn't think she'd ever change so drastically. The girl she'd been when she'd married Gatsby was so different from the woman looking the mirror now. The woman in the mirror had sought out revenge and ruined a man to do it. The girl that Rebecca had once been would have never done such a thing. The woman in the mirror had been carrying on an affair with a childhood sweetheart for months and Rebecca knew that as a girl, her sweet beliefs in romance would have forbid her from every considering such an action. The knowledge of how much she'd changed shocked her and even though time and time again she'd acknowledged her changes, they still shocked her. Rebecca wasn't sure she'd ever come to terms with who she was becoming and she couldn't help but dislike the woman in the mirror.

"Ma'am?"

The deep, rough voice of Crawley forced Rebecca out of herself reproach as she turned to look at the man.

"Yes?" she asked.

"The car is ready for you whenever you're ready," the butler answered in his usual tone of indifference as he stood straight with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Thank you," Rebecca said as Tilly came forward with a light coat and gloves. It only took a few moments to slip her coat and gloves on and for Tilly to adjust a hat on her head. With one last look in the mirror, Rebecca took a deep breath and turned away. Crawley held the door open for her before closing the door behind Tilly. The maid scurried off as Rebecca walked down the halls towards the front door. Descending the steps and reaching the entry hall in record time, Rebecca was shocked to see Gatsby standing with an underfoot man. He was dressed in a light grey suit and a dark grey dress coat. His appearance was impeccable as always with his hair slicked back and his face cleanly shaven.

"Now don't forget that the car will need to be cleaned after we get back," Gatsby said to the young man. "Tell Brighton that I want all the cars washed tomorrow if possible and the insides cleaned as well. Summer is coming and I don't want people to find any kinds of faults with us, Harrison. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Gatsby, sir," the young man answered looking nervous.

"Good," Gatsby replied as he turned around and smiled at her.

"Has business come up in New York?" Rebecca asked him as she watched Harrison nearly trip over his feet to get the front door for them. The doors opened and sight of rain made her frown.

"The Pratt party is today," Gatsby told her as she turned to look at him. "We'll be late if we don't go now."

Rebecca watched as Brighton appeared and quickly opened the door to the Rolls Royce. Rooted to the spot, it took a moment for her to process everything happening around her. That Gatsby was coming with her shocked Rebecca. Gatsby never volunteered to do anything with her and she couldn't help but wonder again what he was after. The paranoia inside her mind began to churn with questions as to what Gatsby was after and why he was coming with her. Just as Rebecca could feel a headache coming on from her mind feeling like it would burst because of all the questions spinning around in her head, a gentle hand touched the center of her back. The touch nearly caused her to jump as she looked up to see Gatsby's own piercing blue eyes staring down at her.

"Have you forgotten something? I can have Crawley call the Pratt's, tell them something has come up and that we'll be late if you've forgotten something."

His words were soft and caring to her ears and Rebecca so desperately wanted to trust in his words and actions. Gatsby had been nothing but caring and attentive to her for the past months. It almost made her feel guilty about seeing Matthew, but she couldn't bring herself to believe in his actions. Gatsby had played her once just as he was doing now and Rebecca would be damned if she let him take advantage of her feelings for him again. Stepping away from him so that he couldn't touch her, Rebecca shook her head and began walking towards the car. A footman appeared at her side with an umbrella so she wouldn't get wet as Brighton laid out a rug before the car door so her feet wouldn't get wet. Before Brighton could help her into the car, Gatsby appeared at her side and offered her a gloved hand. Having no choice but to accept, Rebecca let her tiny hand slip into his. Even though the gloves, Rebecca could feel heat from his body pulsing in her flesh and she cursed her body for having any kind of reaction to his touch.

Just as Gatsby was about to slip into the car himself, Rebecca stopped him as she turned and looked at him. Standing under the umbrella held by Harrison, Gatsby didn't look surprised in the least by her preventing him entering. He simply stared at her before reaching out and taking the umbrella from Harrison. Dismissing Harrison and Brighton, Gatsby looked calm and collected. It only served to infuriate Rebecca more as she fought to control her need to yell at him.

"I don't understand why you're going," she finally said sounding as bitter as she felt. "You've never cared to go before not even when outright asked. Why are you going now?"

"You're right," Gatsby replied shocking them both as he looked at her. "I was never a very good husband or fiancé. I wasn't even fair at it. You care for me like no one else ever has and you'll always be far better than I ever will. However, there is one thing that I can strive to be."

"What is that?" Rebecca asked trying to hide the tremor in her voice as she tried to stop her hands from shaking.

"I can work on being a better husband to you and the best way to start that is by spending time with you. I…I want to spend time with you Rebecca and I want to go to this fundraiser with you. If you don't want to go, say the words and I'll send you on the way without me," Gatsby told her softly. "Just give me a chance to prove to you that I can be the man you thought you married because that man is still inside me and you deserve him more than anything else in the world."

No words could come to her lips as she stared at him in shock. Rebecca wasn't sure what she could say to Gatsby, but all she could think about was that for the first time in a long time she believed in his words. Something about the way he was looking at her and the tone of his voice made her believe him and dare she even mention that she trusted his words. Sliding over in the car, Rebecca let Gatsby slip in beside her. Harrison reappeared to take the umbrella and Brighton came back and picked up the rug for later. Settling back into the seat, Rebecca closed her eyes as she breathed in Gatsby's masculine smell. Her stomach twisted in knots as she sat next to him and Rebecca couldn't help but wonder what had just changed between them because of Jay's words.

* * *

Benjamin Pratt and his wife, Eleanor, lived at a modest estate in East Egg. Rebecca stared out the window as Brighton pulled the car up to the steps of the modest sized home. Made of gray limestone with many windows, the Pratt's house was simple but elegant. A servant came and opened the door to the car on her side. Slipping out, Rebecca was pleased to note that the rain had stopped as she took in the sights of Pratt Manor. While it wasn't the most beautiful house or the most impressive, Pratt House was still pleasing to the eye.

Gatsby exited the car from behind her. He said something to the servant before he smiled at her offered her the crook of his elbow. Knowing it would cause gossip among many people if she didn't accept, Rebecca dutiful placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Climbing the seven stairs to the door, Rebecca glanced around her as they were shown into a marble entry hall with a black and white theme. A maid quickly came and took their coats as the butler appeared to lead them to the drawing room where the party was taking place. Walking through the halls, Rebecca smiled seeing all the different paintings on the walls. She loved artwork and seeing it made her wish she'd had her own chance to decorate her home. Gatsby had given her permission to change whatever she wished but it wasn't the same. Gatsby's house had never felt like a home.

Reaching a set of double doors, the butler opened them and announced their arrival to the party present. The drawing room was large and spacious with red and gold furniture spaced throughout the room strategically. Large windows filtered the sunlight that was just beginning to reappear after the rain. The light reflected off the shined dark wooden floors that were mostly covered in Persian rugs. Their hosts were quick to greet them and Rebecca forced a smile to her face. The Pratt's drawing room was the last place she wanted to be for the day and attending to conversation was already beginning to feel like a chore. Mr. Pratt and Gatsby quickly joined a small group of men that had shown up with their wives as Mrs. Pratt guided her towards the group of women.

Looking around, Rebecca could clearly see that Mrs. Pratt had invited the elite people of society. The best food was being served on Mrs. Pratt's best plate sets and the room had been clearly made up to show off the vast wealth of the Pratt family. Nearly half of all the invited guests had come and Rebecca could already see men and women mingling together. Mrs. Pratt guided her to a small group of women that consisted of Mrs. Vanderwaal, Mrs. Bates, Mrs. Sloane and Elizabeth. Sitting down next to her sister on one of the many settees, Rebecca looked around the group and tried to listen attentively to the conversation around her. It proved to be quite a challenge as she looked around the room. She watched different groups of three or four people talking together in hushed tones.

Everyone was elaborately dressed in the latest fashions with expensive jewels and accessories. Women sat gossiping about the latest scandal in the papers while men sat with each other and spoke about stocks and business. Footmen stood on hand waiting to be called for something or to take an empty tray back to the kitchens as other footmen served hors d'oeuvres and champagne. Through the haze of richly colored dresses and outrageously expensive jewelry, Rebecca watched as the men crowded around Gatsby on the far side of the room. Gatsby stood with his own glass of champagne by the mantle of a fireplace. Where he was, people seemed to gravitate towards him like they couldn't stop the pull he had on them.

They all wanted to talk to him and greet him. He had an aura about him that just drew people in and she was one of its many victims. People couldn't help themselves when they met Gatsby. He was like a hurricane that came in and people didn't stand a chance. They both loved and hated Gatsby. His power knew no bounds and his influence over New York was unbeatable. He made Tammany Hall look like child's play compared to what he was capable of. Everyone in New York from the smallest child to the oldest man knew who Gatsby was. He was a celebrity in the eyes of the papers and the law didn't care. Gatsby had everyone in his pocket whether it was politicians, judges, gossip columnists, teachers, professors, law enforcers…anyone.

Men wanted to be him and envied him for what he could do to other. Rebecca knew that Gatsby was ruthless when it came to people who double crossed him or did something they shouldn't have done. A few phone calls was all it took for Gatsby to destroy a man and his family. People of society knew what kind of power Gatsby could wield and they didn't cross him. People were afraid to and Rebecca didn't blame them. The flip side to everything though was that people needed Gatsby even if they didn't want to admit it. Gatsby was something people aspired to be. Whether they liked it or not, they'd made Gatsby into an icon and they glorified him as everything they wanted to be. People went to Gatsby when they needed or wanted something. He was the bridge between the underworld and the rich peoples of New York. They might not realize it but she did. Rebecca could see everything painted out before clearly and she strangely wasn't sickened by the idea of people using others to get what they wanted from life. Perhaps at one point it would have nauseated her, but that was a long time ago when she, Mary, and Elizabeth had been in the nursery and their idea of the real world was their little school room next to the nursery. So much had changed and she had changed too. She understood the world and could see it for what it really was. Her innocent beliefs and her youthful ideas had been transformed and molded into reality.

Watching everyone before, Rebecca knew that no one, including herself, was completely innocent. Everyone wanted something and did things to get what they wanted. They had all done things that they weren't proud of and they had all lied, cheated, stolen, blackmailed, used and abused things and other people to get the things they wanted. It was a simple norm of their circles and it was accepted. She and Gatsby were a part of that circle. They were the same at the core and they fit the very description of everyone at the party.

They'd lied, cheated, stole, blackmailed, used others and abused things to cope with life and get what they believed they wanted. They weren't different and the realization left her almost breathless as she watched Gatsby break away from the group of men that had congregated together. A waiter appeared with a silver tray and two champagne glasses. Gatsby took the two champagne glasses and started walking towards her.

The sound of Mrs. Sloane's voice nearly caused Rebecca to jump as she turned her attentions back to the conversation at hand.

"Are you alright?" Elizabeth whispered to her and Rebecca nodded.

"Yes. Are you?"

Looking down at her younger sister, Rebecca could see dark circles under Elizabeth's eyes and her fair complexion looked pale.

"Just tired," she whispered back. "Mother has been quite overwhelming."

"I can imagine," Rebecca snorted as Mrs. Sloane turned her attention towards them. An older woman, Margret Sloane was a leading matriarch in society and one of the biggest gossips New York had ever known. With five daughters all successfully married off to wealthy husband including a foreign Duke from Sweden and a Marquis in England, Mrs. Sloane was frequently offering her connections to help other women to find suitable husbands for their unwed daughters.

Katherine Harper and Mrs. Sloane happened to be close friends and Rebecca knew for a fact that Mrs. Sloane had her heart set on being the one to arrange a match between Elizabeth and another man. It would only give Mrs. Sloane something more to boast about but Rebecca didn't care. Elizabeth was tamed, well-mannered and could easily take on someone like Mrs. Sloane. Elizabeth would speak her mind and Rebecca had taken great pains to insert herself into the situation so that she could always be with Elizabeth and help her through whatever she needed.

"You don't have any children do you, Mrs. Gatsby?" the older woman asked with an arched brow.

"No, I don't," Rebecca smiled. "Has your daughter, Beatrice, had her child yet?"

"Not yet," Mrs. Sloane smiled back. "She's due in August and she's barely been married a year. God will bless her with a son soon if we're lucky. It's all the Marquis talks about."

Rebecca felt the jab just as Mrs. Sloane meant for her too. She and Gatsby had been married quite long enough that should have had at least one child, but they didn't. Knowing Mrs. Sloane, Rebecca knew the old woman was fishing for a piece of gossip to spread around about why the great, powerful and wealthy Gatsby didn't have a child.

"There you are, darling."

Gatsby's quiet voice rang out in the pause of conversation as he approached them. Carrying two flutes of champagne, he stopped at her side and handed her the glass of bubbling alcohol.

"Mr. Gatsby!" Mrs. Pratt smiled. "We're so delighted that you could join us!"

"The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Pratt," he smiled back.

Rebecca raised the glass to her lips in relief as she closed her eyes.

"I was just asking your wife when we could be expecting a little one to join the family," Mrs. Sloane said as Rebecca's eyes flashed open quickly. "After all, we're all so curious to know when the next Prince of New York will arrive."

"I'm sure Mrs. Sloane that we'll be blessed soon enough," Gatsby replied with a slight smile as he raised his champagne glass to his lips and Rebecca felt faint as she held her glass to her lips and took a long, deep gulp of the alcohol.

She couldn't help but wish it had been something stronger as Mrs. Sloane began shooting off question after question at Gatsby. Anger grew inside her as she listened to Gatsby answer each question with a polite smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

* * *

Rage.

That was the only feeling Rebecca could identify as she stormed through the house. She'd been suppressing her rage at Gatsby since his words to Mrs. Sloane at the party. It had been slowly building inside her and she felt like she was going to combust. Throwing the French doors open to the patio outside, Rebecca quickly descending one of the twin staircases. It was a miracle that she didn't slip on the wet marble as angrily paced around the pool trying to calm herself down.

The more she thought about his words, the angrier she became.

"The audacity of that man," she mumbled to herself. "He's so lucky I didn't tell Mrs. Sloane right then and there that we will never have a child together…ever!"

"They say talking to one's self is the first sign of insanity or something like that."

Rebecca swung around as she looked at him with blazing eyes.

"Why would you say that to Mrs. Sloane?" she nearly shouted at him as she pointed a finger. "Everyone knows she's New York's biggest gossip! Now the whole world will just be waiting to know if I'm with child and everyone won't stop asking until I do have one!"

"I don't see what the problem is," Gatsby replied calmly as he stood at the edge of the pool with his hands casually in his pockets.

"Don't see what the problem is?" Rebecca echoed as she marched towards him. "You don't see what the problem is?"

"No," Gatsby told her in the same calm voice he'd spoken with earlier. "I don't."

Rebecca barely knew what happened next. The palms of her hands met Gatsby's chest and the sound of splashing water followed. Looking down at the pool, Rebecca watched as Gatsby surfaced a moment later spitting water out.

"You had the opportunity to be in my bed," she told him heatedly. "I even went to you on our wedding night and offered myself to you. You turned me down! You told me never to come back to your rooms and as a dutiful wife, I obey."

"You're angry at me because I soothed Mrs. Sloane?" Gatsby said as he tread water. "We had to pacify her somehow."

"I'm angry at you because you told her you hoped we'd be blessed soon! I don't want you anywhere near my bed and I certainly don't want you warming it!"

"Of course you don't!" Gatsby yelled back. "You don't me anywhere near your bed because you already have a man in it!"

The color drained from Rebecca's face as she watched Gatsby swim towards the edge of the pool. He hoisted himself out and slicked his hair back that had fallen into his face. Even sopping wet, Rebecca could see his handsome features ablaze with anger and annoyance.

"You didn't think I wouldn't know?" Gatsby whispered to her as he stood in front of her. "Nick and I saw you at the Hart's party and you're lucky it was only me and him that saw you."

Any retort died on Rebecca's lips as she looked up into Gatsby clear, blue eyes. She could see anger in his eyes, but also jealously and it surprised her. She'd never figured Gatsby to be the jealous type, but from the look in his eyes, Gatsby was most certainly jealous.

"You're one to talk," she snarled. "What have you given me? Love? Affection? Care? The only thing you've given me is an empty house and a marriage that leaves me thinking everyday how much I'd like to slit my wrists. Matthew—"

"So that's his name? Matthew?"

Her spine stiffened as she realized her mistake. She'd given Gatsby a name to go off of and without a doubt he'd be like a dog with a bone until he found out exactly who Matthew was. When he found out exactly who Matthew was…there was no telling what Gatsby would do to him. She had no idea what Gatsby was capable of doing when in a jealous rage.

"What happens in my bed is none of your business," Rebecca hissed to him. "You never cared. Why should you care now? I don't think you do. You just want to everyone around you to be miserable."

She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her mid-step.

"That's where you're wrong. What should happen if you fall with child? By law that child legal will bare my name. And should that child resemble his father? You and I both know all the repercussions that would happen should that child's lineage ever be revealed. You and I both know that those whispers would forever follow that child around. There would be nothing you or I could do to protect him or her. Nothing, Rebecca. So, if you are sleeping with another man I have a right to know."

Swinging around, Rebecca grabbed the closest pillow off a lawn chair and threw it as hard as she could at Gatsby.

"What about your bed? What about Daisy Buchanan? What if she fell pregnant with your first born? What would you do then? Leave me for her? Convince that buffoon, Tom Buchanan, to let her leave him for you? She available, you know? I made it so! Tom Buchanan is broke and poor and Daisy probably would leave him in heart beat for you and all your wealth! She warmed your bed for months. What makes you so much different than me? Maybe I want my bed warmed and maybe I want anyone but you warming it!"

Before she could turn and storm away, Gatsby reached out and grabbed her wrist in a tight grasp.

"Daisy wasn't what I thought she was."

"Then what was she?" Rebecca challenged bitterly.

"She wasn't the woman I thought I wanted. Yes, I could have left you at any time for her, but I haven't and I won't," Gatsby whispered to her softly.

His words made her body stiffen as Rebecca turned her face up to look at him.

"Why? How can I trust your words?"

"Because the woman that I do want just pushed me into my own pool," he told her softly with an amused smile. "I thought Daisy was everything but I realized that in fact the woman that I truly want has been right under my very nose the whole."

His words were met with silence as she breathed heavily. Turning and walking back to the house, Rebecca ignored Gatsby as he called her name. Tears blinded her vision as she quickly went to her rooms. His words were too much to take in and they were cruel. She didn't know what he was playing with her for but his words and touch made her whole body ache painfully as she ran up the stairs. She would give him whatever he wanted as long as he didn't say any kinds of words like the ones he'd spoken earlier. Gatsby didn't love her or care. He'd made damn well sure of it after he married her and the heartbreak from it had nearly killed her. Opening and slamming the doors to her rooms behind her, Rebecca slid down the doors as she finally let herself cry.

It was like Gatsby was taking great pleasure in torturing her with his sweet words and gestures when Rebecca knew the truth. Deep down, Gatsby would always love Daisy and she would always be the second choice. Now that Daisy was gone, Gatsby was playing some kind of sick game with her and Rebecca wanted no part in it. Hugging her knees to her chest, Rebecca ignored the sounds of footsteps outside her door, the sound of soft knocking and Gatsby gently calling her name. She'd fallen under his spell once and Rebecca refused to fall under it again, in anyway. The only problem was that deep down, she knew she still had feelings for Gatsby that were slowly coming back to bloom under his sweet gestures and even sweeter words.

* * *

 **Sunday**

 **May 25, 1923**

Gatsby paced his library in an agitated state. He knew he'd said too much after the Pratt's party. The look of shock on her face had been enough for him, but there had also been a look of fear in her eyes that startled him. After hours spent pacing, Gatsby knew the truth.

Rebecca thought he was playing her for something.

She didn't trust him and he didn't blame her. He'd given her no reason to trust his sincerity. Any smart woman would expect him to be playing her for something and Rebecca was a smart woman. Gatsby just wasn't sure how he could prove to her that he wasn't playing her for anything. Ever since he'd told her that she was the woman he wanted to be with she hadn't come out her room. Tilly had reported to him on Saturday that she'd spent most of the day sleeping in bed. When he'd asked Tilly if that was normal behavior for Rebecca, the maid had confirmed after much probing. She'd also confessed that Rebecca regularly skipped meals that were sent up and sent them back, untouched. Hearing of Rebecca's behaviors, Gatsby recognized them from someone else he knew.

His own mother had often spent hours in bed and didn't eat. She'd slip into a catatonic state and would become unreachable for months on end after the still born birth of her daughter. Gatsby wasn't sure for how long Rebecca's behaviors had been going on for, but he didn't want his wife to share the same fate as his mother. The depression had eventually killed his mother in the end, shortly before he'd run away. Her death had devastated his father beyond belief, leading to his father slipping into his own depressions and killing himself. A knock on the door drew Gatsby out of his musing as he called out for his intruder to enter. Nick smiling face was shown in by Crawley and Gatsby couldn't help but feel both annoyance and relief that Nick was there. Crawley quickly left them with instructions to bring back tea.

"Crawley said that you're pacing a hole in the rugs up here," Nick smiled as he settled down into a chair.

"Pacing helps me think, old sport," Gatsby replied quietly as he rested his elbow on the mantle of the fire place. "I need to think today."

"May I inquire about what?"

Before Gatsby could say anything, a knock on the door sounded. Gatsby bid the maid to enter and she scurried in with a tray of tea. Watching her quickly lay out the tray and pour Nick a cup, Gatsby turned back and walked towards the many windows that overlooked the gardens.

"Has Mrs. Gatsby been well?" Nick asked as he raised his tea cup to his lips. "I haven't seen her recently."

"She hasn't come out of her room since Friday," Gatsby confessed quietly. "It's my fault. I can't blame her for anything."

Nick quickly put the tea cup and saucer down as he stood up. Walking towards him quickly, Nick had a fierce look on his face as the faced each other.

"Did you confront her about the affair?" he demanded. "What did you say, Gatsby?"

Another knock at the door sounded and Gatsby swung angrily around. Striding towards the door, he yanked the oak wood door open with a scowl and came face to face with a frightened Tilly.

"What?" Gatsby all but barked at her.

"Y-y-y-you w-w-wanted me to tell you w-w-w-when Mrs. Gatsby w-w-w-was leaving her room, sir," Tilly stuttered. "She's gone down to meet the Earl of Kettlemore. They're in the parlor together, sir."

Gatsby stared at the maid for a good long minute before returning back inside the library.

"Where are you going?" Nick asked as Gatsby grabbed his suit coat and slipped it on.

"To meet an Earl," he replied as Nick's face paled. "Apparently, the man is here to see my wife and I want to meet him."

"Jay—"

"I'll be back in a few minutes, old sport," Gatsby continued. "Just stay here."

* * *

Rebecca stared at Matthew sadly as she held the most recent letter from his mother in her hands. The contents only confirmed her worst fears and nightmares. Matthew was leaving for England at the beginning of June.

"So…you're leaving on the first?" she asked trying to keep her voice from breaking.

"I'm sorry," Matthew said softly as he came to sit down next to her on the settee. "I wish it wasn't so soon and I had more time to spend with you. I wish it wasn't all so sudden."

Furiously blinking away the tears that threatened to fall, Rebecca held the letter back out to him with a sad smile.

"We both knew this letter was going to come someday," she whispered. "We both knew Matthew that this wasn't going to last forever. We can't lie to ourselves anymore and pretend that this…thing...could go on without consequence or end. All good things come to an end, my love, this is one of those things."

Her finger tips ghosted faintly over his cheek and Matthew's hand held hers.

"I am going to miss you more than anything in the world," Rebecca continued softly. "I just want one last night with you. That is all I want."

A smile graced Matthew's lips as he moved to press a kiss to the palm of her hand.

"Any wish milady that I can grant, I will," he murmured. "I'll send my car to Nick's house every night until I leave. Just slip out the back with Tilly's help and I promise to have you back before any realizes you're gone, I promise."

"It's doesn't matter if Gatsby knows I'm gone," she told him. "He knows about us. He saw me with you in the garden at the Hart's party. I have no secrets to hide from him. As long as he doesn't know who you are, we have nothing to fear."

Just as Matthew was about reply, the door opened and they jumped apart. Looking over her shoulder, Rebecca felt faint seeing Gatsby striding into the room.

"Jay!" she said, not knowing what to do. She couldn't deny that he looked handsome in a grey suit with a dark navy vest and tie. His hair was slicked back and his blue eyes met hers. She felt a chill pass through her as he approached them and she silently prayed to God that Gatsby didn't shoot Matthew in the middle of her parlor room…if he even knew who Matthew was.

"Mr. Gatsby," Matthew said as he stood up. "I don't believe we've had the honor of meeting before. Matthew Spring, Earl of Kettlemore."

"A pleasure to meet you," Gatsby replied with a rare smile as he offered the Earl his hand. "I haven't had the pleasure of making your acquaintance before. The staffing service alerted me to your being here and I thought I'd come down and meet you. Any friend of Rebecca is always welcome in our home."

Matthew shook Gatsby hand and Rebecca couldn't help but be grateful she was sitting. She was sure she would have fainted dead away if she'd been standing.

"Your accent…York I'm presuming?" Gatsby said as he cocked his head to the side.

"You have quite a good ear," Matthew smiled. "My estate is located in York. I was just telling Rebecca that I'll be leaving for it soon."

"We'll all dreadfully miss him," Rebecca added quickly. "Why don't you both sit down? I'll order some tea."

"Don't worry about the tea, sweetheart," Gatsby told her with a soft smile as he sat down in one of the twin chair opposite the couch. "I already informed Crawley that we'd want a tray delivered. It should be here any minute."

Silence descended upon the room and Rebecca shifted uncomfortably. She watched as Gatsby crossed his legs and stared hard at Matthew. Both men were locked in a staring match and Rebecca wasn't sure what to do.

"Matthew has been visiting from England," Rebecca said quickly. "His mother was our neighbor before she went to England and married Matthew's father. He used to visit New York in the summers to see his grandmother. That's how we know each other, I guess you could say he was darling childhood friend of mine."

"You've been in New York for how long?" Gatsby asked the Earl with a smile.

"A little more than a year," Matthew replied. "I had business to take care of here and I've been enjoying the company of old friends for a while now. It's been hard to take myself away, but I've been summoned home by business and my mother's begging. I was here to say goodbye and make sure your wife promised to keep in touch. She's a lovely letter writer and I'm sure my mother will want to be kept up to speed on all the gossip and scandals revolving around New York."

Just as Gatsby was about to reply, a knock came at the door. Bidding for the person to enter, Rebecca looked over her shoulder to see both a maid and Crawley enter the parlor. Crawley held the door open for the young woman as she walked in with a tea tray and set it down on a table.

"A business associate is here to see you Mr. Gatsby, sir," Crawley said in his usual tone of indifference. "I showed him to the library where Mr. Carraway currently is."

Looking up at the ceiling, Rebecca couldn't help but send up a silent prayer to whichever angel had sent the business associate to call on Gatsby.

"Well," Gatsby said standing with one of his rare smile. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Kettlemore."

"The pleasure was all mine," Matthew replied as he stood up and shook hands with Gatsby.

With a few last words, Gatsby left them alone in the parlor. Letting out the breath that she'd been holding, Rebecca turned to look at Matthew who had moved. Standing by the window, she couldn't help but smile at him as he looked at her expectantly.

"I don't think he knows who you are," she sighed.

"Small blessings," Matthew replied before looking back outside, "Feel like a walk?"

* * *

Gatsby stood in the library with his forearm resting on the molding around the window. After briefly meeting Matthew Spring, Earl of Kettlemore over tea, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he knew the man from somewhere. Something about the Earl was familiar to Gatsby and he didn't understand.

"Ares is in town to stay," Wolfsheim said. "Little bastard apparently is looking for a northern wife. None of the southern belles down south appease him."

"Better lock up the women in your family, Meyer," Gatsby replied as he stared at the window watching Rebecca walk with the Earl up and down the many paths. The Earl walked with his hands behind his back and Rebecca walked closely next to him. They ended up reaching a small circular wrought iron table with matching white wrought iron chairs. A white table cloth covered the table and it looked like tea and cookies had been set up in the shade. Watching them closely, Gatsby couldn't help but clench his fists as he watched the intimate way in which the Earl pulled Rebecca's chair out for her. She smiled at him a smile that Gatsby hadn't seen grace her lips in a long time. The last time he'd seen her smile at him like that was on their wedding before he shattered her fragile heart. The Earl took his own seat as Rebecca poured tea. The sounds of Wolfsheim's conversation with Nick faded in his mind as Gatsby watched his wife and the Earl with interest. He couldn't tell what was being said, but whatever the Earl and Rebecca spoke of was distressing to her. He watched keenly as they spoke for nearly fifteen minutes. Staring at the back of the Earl's head, Gatsby tried to think of where he'd seen the man before. Something about him was familiar but he didn't know what it was.

Gatsby had been close to giving up when the Earl reached for Rebecca's hand and kissed it.

He'd seen the back of the Earl's head at the Hart's party…

He'd seen the man in the ballroom…

He'd seen the Earl when that man had been kissing Rebecca in the gardens….

"That son of a bitch!" Gatsby roared. "That fucking British prick! I'll kill that fucker!"

Nick nearly choked on the tea he'd been drinking as Gatsby continued to yell swear words.

"That goddamned bastard has a pair of balls if he thinks he can set foot in my house! Just wait till I cut them off and hang them off my goddamned mantle! That will teach that miserable, good for nothing, cocksucker something! Just wait till I get my fucking hands on his throat! It's one thing to make love to another man's wife! It's a whole different thing to come into his house and fucking kiss her and have goddamned tea! Where the fuck is my gun?"

Wolfsheim chuckled as Nick shot up and was instantly as Gatsby's side.

"Don't shoot the Earl!" Nick urged. "We've already been through one World War. We don't need a second one because you're shooting British aristocrats."

"I know we don't need another war!" Gatsby thundered as he searched through his desk. "I was in the first one and so were you! Or did you forget?"

Finding a revolver, Nick paled as he watched Gatsby load three bullets into the chamber. Spinning the chamber and locking it into position, Gatsby marched towards the door with both Wolfsheim and Nick hot on his heels.

"Shooting Matthew will only upset Rebecca," Nick tried to reason as Gatsby yanked the door open and walked down the hall.

"I'd let him go boy," Wolfsheim advised with a smile. "Gatsby is ready to pop and you don't want to get in the middle of that."

Shaking his head, Nick continued to follow Gatsby as he quickly walked from the corner library room of the house towards the grand staircase. Nearly tripping, Nick continued to try and reason with Gatsby.

"Jay! Think with your head! You're letting your rage control you!" Nick yelled as he caught Gatsby wrist before he could open the French door that led to the patio outside and the gardens beyond. Pausing, Gatsby turned to his friend and pointed a finger.

"I could and can understand her having an affair," he hissed. "I could, should, and will forgive that. God knows that I've been a horrible husband. I've done things far worse than she has, but I can't abide her just inviting that fucker here! I won't have her lover in my house, eating my food, and sipping on my fucking tea like the goddamned British prick that he is. Besides, if he even thinks about touching my wife in my house, I'll shoot him in the cock! Know what that's like? Ask Meyer's cousin, Abe."

Wolfsheim winced and cupped his own genitalia, "Poor Abe still can't get an erection. God bless his poor pecker."

Ignoring Wolfsheim, Nick looked at Gatsby hard.

"You did the same thing to her, Jay," he said quietly. "You brought Daisy into her own home and Rebecca didn't shoot her. Don't shoot the Earl."

Looking down at the revolver, Gatsby paused for another moment as he held the gun. Without a word, he handed the gun to Wolfsheim. The other mobster accepted the gun, the smile never leaving his face.

"I hate when you're the voice of reason, Nick," Gatsby said quietly before he sucker punched Nick in the ribs. Nick doubted over in pain while he held his sides. Groaning, he clutched the wall for support as he looked up at Gatsby angrily.

"Sorry, you—"

Before he could finish, a familiar figure rounded the corner.

"What on earth are you two doing?" Rebecca called as she quickly walked towards them. Nick held his aching ribs as Gatsby slicked back his fallen hair. Wolfsheim had the gun conveniently hidden behind his back as she stopped to stand in front of them with an arched eyebrow.

"You've never seen two men fighting?" Wolfsheim questioned with a grin.

Rebecca looked between the three men before shaking her head.

"Lord Kettlemore is gone and dinner will be served at seven. Both of you gentlemen are welcomed to stay," she told them with a sigh. "I'm not feeling well and I'll be taking my meal in my room. Good day, gentlemen."

All three watched her go and Wolfsheim let out a sigh of relief as he took the revolver out from behind his back. Opening the chamber and taking out the bullets, Meyer handed the gun back to Gatsby with a smile.

"Your wife always does have perfect timing," Meyer chuckled.

Gatsby didn't reply as he turned and clasped Nick on the shoulder.

"Sorry about that, old sport," he said. "How's your ribs? You want some ice?"

* * *

 **Wednesday**

 **May 28, 1923**

The rain pounded on the roof above him as Nick sat on the couch reading a book. His mind wasn't fully engaged as he tried to decipher the words on the page. Gatsby reaction to Matthew's presence in his house earlier in the afternoon hadn't surprised Nick too much. The fact that Gatsby had been willing to shoot Matthew Spring for sleeping with Rebecca only made Nick smile. Gatsby had been more than willing; in fact the man had been more than happy to kill the Earl. If anything, Nick thought that it showed that Gatsby did have some feelings for Rebecca and that those feelings were strong.

A knock sounded on his front door and it was late. The rain outside pounded down on the roof as Nick wondered who could be calling so late. Closing his book and setting down on the table next to him, Nick stood and walked to the door. Not bothering to look through the peep hole, he opened the door. A wet Elizabeth Harper stood on the other side of the door looking fearful and scared.

"Elizabeth…what are you doing here?"

"Can I come in and talk to you?" she said tearfully. "I have nowhere else to go."

"Of course," Nick said as he stood aside so Rebecca's youngest sister could come in. Elizabeth's dark hair looked nearly black from the water as she stood in his entry. The light, soft pink coat she wore was completely soak and her shoes looked like they had been thrown in the mud. Before Nick closed the door he looked out his door hoping to see a car or something, but there wasn't anything. Closing the door, he turned back to Elizabeth standing in his entry hall, shivering.

"You walked here?" Nick asked as he watched her shaky hands try and unbutton her coat.

"I-I didn't have a choice," Elizabeth stuttered. "I couldn't take the car. My parents arrived back in New York this morning unexpectedly. If I took the car, they'd notice something was wrong and they'd ask questions."

Walking to her, Nick covered her hands with his and quickly undid the buttons of the coat. Stripping her of the wet fabric, Nick shook his head seeing that her dress was also completely soaked through. Elizabeth looked down at her wet dress and whimpered.

"Do you have a blanket?"

Nodding, Nick guided her to the warm living room. He was grateful he had the foresight to start a fire. Hanging her coat, Nick turned his back around so Elizabeth could take off her wet clothing. The sound of clothing rustling and buttons being snapped brought a memory he'd long tried to suppress to the surface.

 _…The weather had been unseasonably warm for early April with the wind blowing warm. Sitting on the back lawns of Ashby House, Nick couldn't have been more thankful for the secluded area that Elizabeth had chosen to have their picnic at. They'd had a clear view of the bay but the area had been private enough that they wouldn't have had constant interruptions._

 _"Where are Lord Kettlemore and Rebecca?" Nick had asked as he'd watched her set out the lunch the cook from Ashby House had packed for them._

 _"They went to New York," Elizabeth had smiled at him. "There's an exhibit that Rebecca wanted to go see. Matthew is taking her and I believe that they're staying for dinner too."_

 _Nick nodded and he turned to look out at the bay. The day had been beautiful and the afternoon air had been warm enough that he'd had taken off his suit jacket. Elizabeth had worn a knee length dress that had thick straps over her smooth, creamy shoulders. The soft blue dress she wore was pretty and Nick couldn't have help but feel something. He'd had spent many weeks getting to know Elizabeth. She was always at Ashby House when he was and they just gravitated towards each other like the plants did to the sun._ _She was sweet and charming just like Rebecca was, but there was something more to her. It had been growing in the months they'd been spending together. With Matthew and Rebecca often sneaking away to do their own things, Nick and Elizabeth had been left to their own devices. Talking had become their chief source of entertainment and it didn't take long for them to discover they had many mutual likes and dislikes._

 _Nick had been surprised to learn that like him, Elizabeth had a talent for writing. She'd shared with him her many journal of poetry and little short stories she'd written down. She'd confessed to him while she like shopping, poetry was her love. They'd had sat in the library for many hours in the winter months going through different poets and play writes. Elizabeth was a true Shakespearian at heart just as much as he was and she adored Wordsworth, Keats and Byron. She favored the Romantic Movement above any other movement in English poetry._ _Besides poetry, Nick had also discovered that Elizabeth was fluent in French and Italian. He'd had spent hours listening to her read poetry in French and plays in Italian. Her voice was unlike anything he'd ever heard and it drew him in. Each word drew him in unlike anything else before and each smile she gave him left him more entranced._

 _That afternoon something had changed between them. The air was charged in a way Nick had never experienced before with another person. Everything she did and said had tempted him. Her manners and her smiles drew him in like a dying man for drink of water. Lying under that secluded willow tree and listening to her share her own poetry with, Nick had closed his eyes and pushed out the entire surrounding world until it was just him and her, alone with nature._ _Each word of hers washed over him like a wave and he took it like a breath of fresh air. Each word was rich like honey and sweet like candy. Her soft voice melted his soul like butter and in the still air; Nick had lost himself in her words._

 _When she spoke about her lips having never received a kiss, Nick had impulsively sat up and kissed her. He hadn't even known what had happened until his lips had touched hers. Soft and plump, her lips had tasted like the strawberries she'd just eaten. It had been a kiss unlike anything Nick had ever experienced. It had lasted for only a second and when he'd pulled away, her eyes were still shut and her lips still parted. She hadn't run away from him and she had rejected his advances either. Leaning down again, Nick had cupped the back of her neck and had pressed another soft kiss to her lips._

 _The second kiss surpassed the first, if it was possible._

 _Elizabeth was more receptive to his kiss and kissed him back with equal passion. Her silky, smooth hands had dropped the book as she cupped his cheeks. A burning feeling had filled him and Nick had wondered if the air was hotter than before. His blood was rushing through his body and his pounded in his chest as he kissed. When oxygen finally became a necessity, Nick had broken the kiss. Heart pounding, blood racing and panting like he'd run a marathon, Nick had looked at her and Elizabeth had only to nod to give him permission._

 _Poetry of a new kind had been made that afternoon under the long branches of the willow tree. Shielding them from the view of the rest of the world, Nick had made sweet love to Elizabeth. What she'd lacked in experience, Elizabeth had made up for in passion and enthusiasm. Each kiss had been like fireworks going off in his body. Her blue dress and his shirt had been the first things to go followed by everything else._ _Elizabeth's skin had glimmered softly in the sunlight that had broken through the tree top. She'd been like an angel to him with each gasp and moan as he'd pressed warm, hot kisses to her neck and shoulders. Her fingertips had traced over his skin leaving burning paths everywhere they'd touched. The passion he'd experienced with her had been unlike anything he'd ever had before._ _Under the willow tree, Nick had taught her about passion. He'd taught her how with a few simple touches he could send her into the stratosphere of pleasure. Listening to every breathless gasp, soft moan and cry of pleasure had only made him crazier with desire. Each sound only had made him want to possess more of her and be with her. Each touch only brought them closer together and each shared breath made them one._

 _That afternoon he'd taken her gifted innocence under that willow tree and he'd given her the first of many tastes of passions. He'd taught her how to become a woman and he'd made her one. Together they'd become a man and a woman in the most basic sense of living. The world and the rules of society had slipped away from them and in the secluded shade of the willow tree with its long sweeping branches that touched the ground; Nick and Elizabeth had become one. Nothing could touch them and with each stroke of his hips as he pushed into her, the world faded away more and more._ _The cliffs of pleasure had quickly approached. They built and built until nothing stopped them from plunging over the high cliffs. Nick hadn't been prepared for the pleasure. Falling from the cliffs of pleasure…nothing compared to what he was feeling. There were no words to describe the pleasure afterwards…nothing. He could only say that it was like floating on a cloud or in the water and being completely at peace. His whole body felt unlike anything it had ever felt like before after his heart slowed down and his breathing returned back to normal. Nick could only imagine that he was the closest to heaven he'd ever be in his lifetime._ _Elizabeth had stayed in his arms afterwards for nearly hour until she'd pulled away from him. Her leaving his arms had been like being dowsed in cold water as the world came rushing back to them. Nick could see worry etched in her eyes as she quickly looked around for her clothing._

 _"We shouldn't have done that," she whispered to him. "We shouldn't have…"_

 _"Elizabeth," he said softly as he leaned up and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder blade, but before he could say anything else Elizabeth pulled away from him._

 _"This shouldn't have happened Nick. I'm so sorry. Oh, God! I shouldn't have kissed you. God, we've already had such a scandal with Mary in the family. I'm so silly! Please, please, don't tell anyone about this. My family will be ruined if you do! Please, promise me you won't breathe a word of this to anyone," she had begged him on the verge of tears…._

The memory of the day passed over his mind and Nick couldn't help the chill that passed over him. He'd kept his promise to Elizabeth and hadn't breathed a word of their liaison to anyone. Nick hadn't even told Gatsby what had passed between him and Elizabeth. No one knew about their brief time together and Nick always planned to keep it that way. The months he'd spent getting to know Elizabeth and the afternoon they'd spent together in the garden was something he always planned on taking with him to the grave. Her dress was laid down next to the coat by the fire and Nick turned to see her wrapped up in a blanket.

"Tell me what's wrong," he whispered to her softly. "Tell me, Elizabeth."

She walked slowly back towards the couch and sat down shakily. Nick followed her as dread filled inside him. Her coming words scared him because he didn't know how to comfort her or what he could possibly do or say that would take away her pain and fear. Crouching down in front of her, Nick reached for her chilled hands and held them tightly in his.

"Tell me," he urged her quietly. "Tell me what's wrong, Elizabeth."

"You're the only person I could go to," she choked through tears. "I can't tell anyone else. Please, you have to help me!"

"Anything," he told her softly as he held her trembling hands. "Tell me what is wrong. Tell me so I can help you. I'll do whatever I can to help you. You know that. Tell me…"

Nick watched as she fought back more tears, "You can't tell anyone…you…j-j-j-just can't. Promise me."

"I promise. Now, what's wrong?"

"I'm with child. Nick," she said. "It was that afternoon under the willow tree."

Nick felt all the air leave his lungs. Elizabeth launched herself into his arms as she sobbed harder and he wrapped his arms around her automatically. He didn't know what to say as a knock sounded on the door followed by the door being opened and closed.

"Nick, old sport, have you seen—"

Gatsby stopped seeing them together. Nick could see his eyes flash with anger as Gatsby took in the sight before him.

His sister-in-law's clothing by the fire as he, Nick Carraway, held the woman in nothing but a blanket.


	13. XII: My Heart Will Go On

**Part XII: My Heart Will Go On**

 _"...Near, far, wherever you are_  
 _I believe that the heart does go on_  
 _Once more you open the door_  
 _And you're here in my heart_  
 _And my heart will go on and on_

 _Love can touch us one time_  
 _And last for a lifetime_  
 _And never let go 'til we're gone_

 _Love was when I loved you_  
 _One true time I hold to_  
 _In my life we'll always go on..."_

~ "My Heart Will Go On" - Celine Dion

 **Wednesday**

 **May 28, 1923**

"You let her into your house and took her clothing off," Gatsby said as he paced the small length of Nick's kitchen. "Are you insane? What would have happened if someone saw you? What if it hadn't been me that came in through your front door? The last thing the Harper Family needs is another scandal, Carraway!"

"Jay—" Nick tried but Gatsby ignored him.

"The moment she showed up on your doorstep, you should have put your coat on, grabbed a goddamned umbrella, and walked her over to my house! I'm her brother-in-law and she would have been more than welcome in my home. More importantly, she would have had protection under my roof if something did happen!"

"Jay—"

"Don't even get me started on how irresponsible it was for her to leave East Egg and walk all the way here! She's an heiress with an inheritance that men only dream about! Someone could have kidnapped her and held her for ransom or she could have been hit by a car and killed in the dark! What would her family think? You think that Rebecca would be able to endure the heartbreaking loss of a sister? She's barely able to function now!"

"Jay—"

"I don't know what either of you two were thinking, but when Katherine Harper hears about her daughter escaping in the night to come see you, she's gonna hit the roof and Rebecca will hit the roof after her. I like my head attached to my body! I don't like getting yelled at for other people's mistakes as well! And I certain don't like getting yelled at by my wife and my mother-in-law at the same time!"

"Jay!" Nick called finally getting Gatsby's attention. The older man swung around and stared with hard eyes, waiting for an explanation. Taking a deep breath, Nick squared his shoulders and looked his friend in the eye knowing that an explosion was bound to happen.

"Elizabeth is with child," Nick said trying to remain calm. "She came here to tell me that she's with child and I plan on marrying her."

The color drained from Gatsby face as he grabbed the counter in support.

"C-c-child?" he mumbled, "My sister-in-law is with child?"

"Yes, I'm going to marry her."

Nick watched Gatsby shake his head and mumble things to himself. He wasn't sure what Gatsby was saying, but Nick was pretty sure that the man was praying about not being murdered by Katherine and Rebecca.

"Do either you or her, know who the father is?" Gatsby asked after a few minutes as he looked up at the ceiling. He looked like a man a decade older than his thirty-three years.

"I am the father," Nick told him, mentally preparing himself for the punches that Gatsby was likely to thrown. If Gatsby's reaction to Matthew Spring was anything to go off of, Nick would consider himself lucky if Gatsby didn't pull a gun on him. The punches never came as Gatsby swung around and started pacing again. Nick watched him walk around for nearly a minute before Gatsby stopped and looked at him with even harder eyes then before.

"You got my sister with child?" he hissed. "Are you an idiot?"

"It wasn't like it was planned," Nick said quietly looking around Gatsby's form to see that Elizabeth was still asleep on the couch where he'd left her.

"It didn't have to be planned! The point is that you were having sex with _my virgin_ sister!"

"You're one to judge other people! What about you and your wife? You and Rebecca have been having sex with different people for the past two years."

"Both _my wife_ and Daisy have the protection of marriage and don't you dare bring them into this. They have nothing to do with the fact that you got my _unwed_ sister with child. What do you think Rebecca and Katherine are going to say? What is Edward Harper going to say?"

"What did they say about your affair?" Nick asked bitterly.

"Nothing! Nick, in our world the married men are expected to have affairs!" Gatsby shot back angrily. "Don't think for a moment that I'm proud of how I've turned my marriage into a train wreck, but you're going to have to recognize that everything changes now. You're not in the Midwest anymore! Katherine and Edward Harper have no sons and Elizabeth is their youngest daughter. You'll be expected to live with them in East Egg because I can guarantee you that Edward Harper would rather slit his wrists than let his daughter live in a grounds keeper's old cottage. You'll become the sole heir to the estate. Don't think for one moment that you'll be able to fool Katherine Harper into believing that her daughter wasn't pregnant before the marriage. Bleeding fucking Christ! What a goddamned mess!"

Gatsby ran his fingers through his hair as he continued pacing around the small kitchen. Nick watched him again for few minutes before Gatsby stopped again and closed his eyes. Gripping the counter tightly, Gatsby sighed.

"We'll need to convince Rebecca not to explode. With our vote of confidence in you…the Harper Family won't be able to complain. They trust my judgment enough that—"

"They trust your judgment?"

"Yes!" Gatsby nearly shouted as he snapped. "Who do you think has helped Edward Harper invest his capital and rebuild his fortune legally? Do you think all I do is illegal activities, Nick? I can invest and make money legally too! Buying and trading stocks is just one of many ways to make money. It's a quick way, but it's also risky. Stocks change every day and I don't trust them. There are always other alternatives to making money. Trust me when I say that the alcohol ban will be lifted and when that happens, I will have a monopoly on the market and the money that I make now will quadruple. I may not have a college education like you do, but I have educated myself about the markets and how money works. I know what I'm doing and that's why Edward Harper trusts my judgment, old sport. Believe me when I say that you will need Rebecca's confidence and her faith to sell this coming marriage to Edward Harper. Rebecca is close to him and he trusts her without question. Edward will question you if he sees Rebecca doesn't like you or trust you. That's why I said you don't want Rebecca to explode. She's the key in all this."

"So…you'll tell her?" Nick asked with hope in his eyes.

"No! Are you insane?" Gatsby told him with a shake of his head. "She's angry enough with me as it is. You and Elizabeth are going to tell her yourselves. With any luck she won't blame me for it."

"Why would she blame you? Elizabeth and I are the ones who—"

"Because that's how marriage works, old sport. You'll get blamed for things that you have no control over," Gatsby sighed. "Now, let's wake Elizabeth up and bring her back to my house. She can stay there for the night. We'll talk to Rebecca in the morning, old sport."

Moving towards the door, Nick watched Gatsby smooth back his hair.

"Jay?" he called and Gatsby stopped. "Why did you come over here in the first place?"

Gatsby slowly turned around and looked at Nick. The expression on his face was unreadable and a nervous feeling formed in the pit of Nick's stomach.

"I came to see if you knew where Rebecca is at. Clearly, she's not here," Gatsby said quietly while he avoided looking around.

"She's not at Gatsby Manor?" Nick questioned.

"She's been missing since after dinner. I went to go speak with her about hosting a party, but she wasn't in her room. I thought she might have come here."

Nick wasn't sure what he could possibly say that would help Gatsby. He knew that Matthew Spring would be leaving soon for England and the likelihood of the Earl ever returning was slim. With that in mind, the odds were extremely high that Rebecca was probably with the Earl. From the expression on Gatsby's face, Nick guessed that the older man had come to the same conclusion.

"Get Elizabeth," Gatsby said quietly. "We'll put her in a guest room at my house and I'll phone her parents. They're probably worried and thinking she's been kidnapped or worse."

Gatsby left without another word and Nick couldn't help but to pity the man. Gatsby had finally figured out what for so long he'd been blind to, only to learn that his wife was seeking comfort in another man's arms and bed. Nick wasn't sure what that could possibly feel like, but having seen both Rebecca and Gatsby go through it with each other…Nick was sure it was devastating. Turning and walking back towards the living room, he busied himself with the task at hand while hoping Rebecca wouldn't kill them all tomorrow.

* * *

 **Thursday**

 **May 29, 1923**

It was a little after two o'clock in the morning when Gatsby opened the doors to Rebecca's rooms. He and Nick had successfully settled Elizabeth into a guest bedroom down the hallway and Gatsby had summoned a doctor. Besides having a simple chill, Elizabeth and the babe were as healthy as they possibly could be. Gatsby knew it was a horrible thought, but he'd wished that the doctor had told them that Elizabeth was feverish and miscarrying.

If Elizabeth lost the child and was sick, everything would be so much easier. The problem would go away and another scandal would be avoided entirely. Nick had already announced his intent to marry Elizabeth which helped them, but a hasty marriage between two people who had never been seen together at a party would cause rumors and many raised eyebrows. A baby born even earlier than nine months would also set tongues wagging and Gatsby couldn't help but have another ungenerous hope that Elizabeth have a difficult pregnancy so that they could use it as an excuse as to why her child was born so early.

Walking into the sitting room, Gatsby looked around the large area and easily spotted Rebecca's writing desk against the wall opposite the large windows. The English Victorian desk was a light wood with two drawers on each side and a drawer in the middle. Setting the oil lamp he'd been carrying down, Gatsby quietly looked at the clean surface of the desk. A few trinkets were on the surface including a picture of Elizabeth and one of Mary. A pen case contained two fountain pens and black ink. A small flower vase sat in the right corner with a bundle of lilies. Opening the top two drawers, Gatsby quickly search the drawers, but found nothing. There were no clues as to where Rebecca was and if she was coming back.

An uncomfortable feeling formed in the pit of his stomach as Gatsby opened the third drawer.

He didn't know what he'd find, but he was petrified of Rebecca leaving him. He didn't want her to leave him for the Earl. He didn't want her to be a whole world away where he couldn't touch her. The very thought of it made him anxious and all the more determined to find her. The only thing he could find in the third drawer was book of childhood fables and stories that looked like it hadn't been touched in years. The inside of the drawer was dusty and Gatsby didn't bother opening the cover of the book. Moving to the fourth drawer, Gatsby heard the door knob turn. He held his breath as the door slowly opened and he tried to think of an excuse as to why he was snooping in his wife's writing desk in the dead of night. When Nick's face appeared round the corner of the door, Gatsby let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding and leaned back against the desk.

"It's late, old sport," he said quietly. "Can I help you?"

"I saw the light was on and I thought you were Rebecca," Nick replied as he watched him closely. "I was coming to ask if she could sleep with Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth has a maid with her," Gatsby sighed as he turned back towards the desk and reached for the fourth drawer. "She'll be fine on her own for the night. Besides, Rebecca hasn't returned."

"Is that why you're going through her writing desk?"

Gatsby paused as he held the brass knob of the drawer. He was the master of his own home and didn't answer to anyone least of his future brother-in-law.

"I'm looking for something," Gatsby finally said vaguely. "It doesn't concern you."

Nick was silent as he looked through the drawer. Just as he was about to give up on the contents of the drawer, Gatsby found a small box buried at the bottom beneath a poetry book. Taking the box out, he held it under the light and opened the rosewood top. A stack of letters was stashed inside the small box along with a pressed flower. Setting the box down on the desk, Gatsby took out the stack of letters and undid the velvet ribbon that held the letters together. The top letter fluttered out and in the light, Gatsby could clearly read the message in elegant script.

 _May 28, 1923_

 _Darling,_

 _Everything is set for tonight._

 _My car will pick you near Mr. Carraway's front door. I promise to have you back before anyone knows you're missing. Please, send a reply to this note letting me know what time to send the car. I've already made reservations at the Warwick Hotel for my last night in the city. I know how desperately you want to come back to England with me…_

Gatsby didn't read anymore.

The letter continued and turned into a sweet, simpering love letter that made him sick to his stomach. The note was signed 'M' but Gatsby knew exactly who had written the letters.

"When is the Earl leaving again?" Jay asked Nick quietly.

"The first of June," Nick said quietly. "Why?"

Gatsby said nothing as he put the letters and the box back the way he'd found them. His stomach was churning all the while because he's suspicions were right. Rebecca was with the Earl and she wouldn't be back until she was ready to come back.

"Jay?" Nick asked quietly. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, old sport," Gatsby said. "I'll make sure Elizabeth has a maid with her before I retire. Goodnight."

Walking past Nick, Gatsby let out a shaky breath as he stepped into the hall. He couldn't deny the truth any longer. He'd convinced himself that Rebecca wasn't with the Earl at that moment, but the evidence was overwhelming. Passing his own room, Gatsby went straight to the library to work. Sleep wouldn't come to him, he was sure. Work would stop his mind from conjuring up images of Rebecca and the Earl together and sedate him for only a little while. In the morning, they'd deal with the mess Elizabeth and Nick had created. Until then, Gatsby needed to engage his mind and distract himself with something and wait for daylight as the torturous job of pretending he didn't know where she'd been began.

* * *

She'd only had a few hours of sleep the night before but that didn't stop Rebecca from showing up at breakfast. The breakfast table had been set out in the breakfast room with two extra chairs and she raised an eyebrow when she walked in.

"Are we expecting people to come for breakfast?" she asked after she settled herself into her seat with a plate of food. She looked expectantly at Gatsby, who barely lowered his newspaper to look at her.

"Our guests will be here any moment," he said just as the door opened. A tired looking Nick walked in followed by a red eyed Elizabeth. Staring at them, Rebecca couldn't help but to put her silverware down. Her appetite was gone as she looked from the two people standing to Gatsby, who had tossed aside his ironed paper. She stared at him hard waiting for answers, but none came forth right away. Instead, Gatsby uncrossed his legs and stood up. Telling the two maids present to keep the breakfast warm, he suggest that they all relocate to the music room for a private conversation.

Within minutes, Rebecca found herself being ushered into the quiet music room as a nervous looking Elizabeth sat down on one of the many couches. An equally nervous looking Nick sat down on the far end of the couch that Elizabeth sat on while he stared at Gatsby for some unknown reason. Walking towards the open windows, Rebecca watched Gatsby stand with his hands clasped behind his back. Something caught the man's attention below as he stared quietly. Rebecca quickly walked towards a chair and held on to the back of the chair as she stood waiting. When no one spoke right away she cleared her throat and looked at Gatsby.

"And what is so important that we cannot sit and eat out breakfast, Mr. Gatsby?" she asked with an arched brow. "Would someone care to explain to me why we're here in the music room instead of downstairs in the breakfast room?"

Gatsby turned slightly and looked at her, "Prying eyes and ears have a way of always making themselves present in the breakfast room. I'm sure that you don't want our family business splashed all over the cover of the papers."

"Family business? What family business are you talking about?"

Before Gatsby could reply, a near hysterical Elizabeth stood up and burst into tears. Nick quickly moved to comfort her, but Elizabeth stopped him as she walked towards Rebecca.

"It's my entire fault," Elizabeth said as she stood up in front of her. "Please, don't blame anyone but me."

"Don't blame you for what?" Rebecca snapped as she looked around the music room. "Would someone explain what on earth is going on?"

Gatsby shifted from his spot by the window and turned around to look at them all. Rebecca let her gaze take in the tall man by the window in a handsome navy blue pinstriped suit and tie. Gatsby cleared his throat as he walked over towards them and rested one of his hands on the back of the couch where Nick had been seated with Elizabeth.

"Nick and Elizabeth will need our help," he said calmly in a steady voice. "Elizabeth is with child and Nick is the father. They plan to marry as soon as possible, thank God. They'll need our support in order to get the support of your parents and society. I'm sure that's the kind of family business you don't want splashed across the papers, Mrs. Gatsby."

Rebecca's legs felt weak as she sank down into the closest chair. Looking at both Elizabeth and Nick with wide eyes, she tried to comprehend what Gatsby had said, but she was sure that she'd misheard him.

"Is it true?" she whispered as she stared at Elizabeth. "Is it true?"

Elizabeth was kneeling before Rebecca tearfully in an instant. Rebecca let her younger sister grasp her hands tightly, but she didn't squeeze back. She couldn't believe she'd heard her husband's words correctly, but the look in his eyes and Elizabeth's told her that Gatsby hadn't lied. He was telling the truth and shock was racing through her veins. Mary's scandal barely compared to the shock of hearing that a similar situation was repeating itself all over again in the family. Hearing her sister's voice, Rebecca looked at the red, tear filled eyes of her youngest sister.

"I'm so sorry," Elizabeth pleaded. "It wasn't meant to happen, but it did and I'm sorry. Please, don't hate me! Don't let Mother and Father send me away like they did with Mary. I don't want to leave you or anyone."

Yanking her hands away from Elizabeth, Rebecca stared at her sister for a moment before standing. Grasping the side of the piano, Rebecca could barely believe what was happening or what she was hearing. First, Mary. Now, Elizabeth. Both were in similar situations involving a child and being unwed. Closing her eyes and squeezing the piano tightly, Rebecca resisted the urge to lash out at Nick and Elizabeth for their stupidity. How they could be so careless was beyond her, but they had.

Now, there was life altering consequences to deal with. With Nick planning to marry Elizabeth, the chances of her youngest sister suffering a fate similar to Mary was slim, but Edward and Katherine Harper would be furious that Elizabeth was marrying a young man from the Midwest with hardly any money to his name. She understood what Gatsby meant by 'supporting' Nick and Elizabeth. Knowing her mother and father, Nick would need all the help in convincing Edward and Katherine Harper that he hadn't married their youngest daughter for her money. Turning back around and facing the room, Rebecca stared at her youngest sister for a moment before turning to look at Gatsby.

"I will agree to whatever scheme you're creating, but know that you won't be able to convince my mother that her first grandchild was born early. She'll figure everything out well before the wedding. With any luck, she'll see reason and keep her mouth shut," Rebecca sighed as she rubbed her forehead. "Obviously, they will have to marry as so as it can be arranged and the sooner the better. I will leave the sorting of the marriage license and those kinds of details to you."

"Agreed," Gatsby replied as he slipped his hands into his dress pants pocket. "I already told Nick that your mother is impossible to lie to."

"Except for you," she scoffed. "You can lie to her about anything and sweet talk her into getting whatever you want."

The room fell silent as Elizabeth returned to her seat next to Nick and held his hand tightly. Just looking at the pair of them, Rebecca could smell their fear and anxiety. While Elizabeth had a blank expression on her face, Nick looked down right nervous as if he was waiting for his own execution.

"Do relax," Rebecca told him as she walked towards the decanter of whiskey and grabbed a tumbler from the tray. "No one is going to kill you. At least you're marrying my sister. That's the only thing that is keeping you alive right now, so calm down. As long as you don't do any trouble making, Tom Buchanan's fate won't be shared with you."

"A little early don't you think, sweetheart, to be drinking?" Gatsby commented as she poured herself a generous amount of amber liquid. Placing the decanter back down on the silver tray it had been sitting on and putting the crystal back in the neck; Rebecca looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"If you don't want me drinking so early don't spring things like this on me before noon, _darling_ ," she replied with an arched brow. "I will be in my rooms if you need me. I'll contact my mother in the afternoon and see if we can't arrange a little family dinner or something before we spring this mess on them. God only knows if my father's heart will take the news that yet another one of his daughters can't seem to keep her legs closed long enough to get married."

Not bothering to acknowledge that her words had caused an overly emotional Elizabeth to cry, Rebecca walked towards the door leaving Gatsby alone with a tearful pregnant woman and a nervous father to-be. Closing the door behind her and drinking the entire contents of the tumbler, Rebecca closed her eyes at the burn of the alcohol going down her throat. It felt good and she could already feel the effects of the alcohol by the time she reached her room. Not bothering to call for Tilly, Rebecca collapsed on top of her bed and covered her eyes with her hands.

"Oh, Elizabeth. You stupid, foolish girl," she murmured to herself. "You had better pray no one saw you or knows about the pregnancy and writes about it in the papers before you're married."

* * *

 **Friday**

 **May 30, 1923**

Gatsby took a deep breath and squared his shoulders after he stepped out of his car. A servant held the door to his yellow car and he handed the young lad the keys. Walking towards the opened doors and the butler that stood on the first step, Gatsby slowly made his way to the older man that resembled Crawley.

"Mr. Murdock at your service, sir," the butler nodded. "How can I help you today?"

"I'm here to see the Earl," Gatsby said taking out his card. "Please tell him that Mr. Gatsby is here to see him on important business."

The butler nodded and promised to return quickly. Left alone in the foyer, Gatsby looked around the grand entrance hall. The floor was black and white patterned marble and the dark wood panels surrounded the area. A large, circular table was in the center of the foyer with a large vase of lilies in the center. It wasn't the table that had caught his attention, but the gloves that rested on top. Walking closer, Gatsby recognized the cream colored lace gloves instantly. He'd seen them earlier in the morning on Rebecca's hands before she'd departed the manor. The pearl buttons on the wrist were undone and a small pearl embroidered clutch was next to the gloves.

"Mr. Gatsby, sir."

Looking up, Gatsby stared at the butler who wore a similar look of indifference that Crawley always seemed to wear.

"Lord Kettlemore will see you in the library," Mr. Murdoch said. "If you would please follow me, sir."

Following the butler, Gatsby was shown into the library. He barely noticed his surroundings as he looked at the man who had been sleeping with his wife. It took all his self-control not to snap and assault the man who stood before him in a feather grey suit with a matching vest and silvery blue tie.

"Mr. Gatsby, a pleasure to see you again," the Earl smiled as they shook hands.

"As it you Lord Kettlemore," Gatsby replied back with a tight smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Not at all, I was just working on some business. Please, join me for some refreshments. Can I offer you a cup of tea?" Matthew asked as his butler waited for a command.

"Let us forget the niceties," Gatsby said as he stood with his hands clasped behind his back to prevent him from throttling the Earl. "You know who I am and I know who you are."

It only took a moment for Matthew to realize what Gatsby had meant. Dismissing his butler, the Earl tucked his hands into his pockets. The tension pulsated around the room as both men stood unsure of what to say next.

"I figured you come, eventually," Matthew finally said sighed as he leaned back against his desk. "Rebecca told me that you knew. She told me that you'd seen us at—"

"I don't need to relive the memory of seeing you with your hand between my wife's legs," Gatsby snapped as he turned from his position at the window. "Seeing it once was nauseating enough."

Falling back into silence, Gatsby watched as Matthew crossed to a pair of twin wing-back chairs. A small circular table sat between the chairs and on the surface of the table was decanter and three small tumblers.

"Can I interest you in some port, Mr. Gatsby?"

"No, thank you."

Matthew didn't say anything else as he quickly poured himself a small portion of port from the tumbler. Moving away from the window, Gatsby helped himself to the seat next to Matthew who also sat down with his tumbler full of port. Their body's mirrored each other as they both sat back with their legs crossed. Gatsby could almost imagine that if someone didn't know what was happening between them, the person would imagine that they were friends having a drink together in the library.

"Mr. Carraway tells me that you plan on returning to England soon," Gatsby said after the Earl took his first sip of the alcohol.

"The first of June," Matthew amended. "I leave on the RMS _Beatrice_ at one o'clock in the afternoon."

"Your last night in New York. I'm sure you're sad that it's coming to an end."

Matthew set his tumbler down on the table next to him and shook his head, "You told me that you wanted to dispense with the niceties. You didn't come here to make small talk with me, Mr. Gatsby. Something is obviously on your mind. Why don't you just tell me instead of making small talk?"

Standing, Gatsby walked towards the window. Looking out at the vast, sprawling gardens of the estate, the urge to hit Matthew Spring overwhelmed him again. Clenching his fists, Gatsby took a deep breath before he turned back around to stare at the Earl.

"I had the most interesting night last night, do you know that?" he started. "You see, I went to find my wife to speak with her about a household matter and I couldn't find her. Tilly was the only one who'd seen her earlier in the evening and according to the maid, Rebecca had left the estate. It wasn't hard to figure out that she'd been with you. I found a stack of letters in her writing desk and they were all from you. The most recent letter was on top. You're staying at the Warwick Hotel tomorrow night with Rebecca. Don't deny it. I've already checked and you have reservations there for most expensive suite they have."

Matthew sighed and rubbed his forehead, "I can't and won't deny that yes, I do have a reservation at the hotel."

"And Rebecca? Do you plan on meeting her there or can I at least expect my wife home for dinner tomorrow? I saw her gloves on the table downstairs. She's here in the house, isn't she?"

"I won't deny that she intends to meet me at the Warwick Hotel," Matthew told Gatsby quietly. "As for her location? I don't know where she is at this moment. For all I know, she's listening at the door."

"Are you going to take her back to England?" Gatsby asked bluntly. "I saw in your letter you spoke about her going England with you. Is that why you're meeting her at the hotel? Throw my men off from following her?"

"You have no idea how tempting the idea is to take her back to England with me. To take her away from the pain and hurt you've caused. I want nothing more in the world and I know she'll ask me to reconsider again tonight," Matthew snorted. "I'm almost tempted to take her with me and let everything else be damned to hell. If that bloody Mary Harper hadn't met Tom Buchanan, you and I wouldn't even be having this conversation. I would have married her a long time ago and you would just simply be another name that was talked about in passing conversation between her and me."

Gatsby pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before he turned and looked out the windows of the Earl's elaborate estate. He knew he'd caused Rebecca pain. Years of pain and agony that couldn't be undone. The Earl's words were tempting because of the simple fact that Gatsby knew that Matthew Spring could probably make Rebecca happier than he ever could. Just hearing the man talk about what kind of future Rebecca would have had with the Earl made him feel a jealousy unlike anything he'd ever felt rear up inside his body.

"You have no idea how much I wish you could do that for her," Gatsby finally said as he turned back to look at the Earl. "But I am a selfish man. I won't let you take her across the sea. Not when I know that I have the chance to win her back and make her happy too."

"Did you ever have a chance with her?"

"She married me."

"To save her family!" Matthew shouted as he stood up. "She married you to repair the damage that Mary Harper did to the family!"

"You weren't there when she married me," Gatsby yelled back as he held onto the window frame. "I could see it in her eyes. She loved me and being the selfish bastard that I am, I turned her away because I believed myself to be in love with another woman."

"And are you in love with this other woman? This…Daisy Buchanan?" Matthew demanded. "Can you honestly say that you have real, genuine feelings for Rebecca?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't have genuine feelings for Rebecca. The only reason I haven't ploughed my fist into your face is because I know Rebecca, God only knows why, cares for you and I won't hurt something she cares about. The only reason I'm here in this room is because of desperation. Don't let her get onto that boat with you no matter how much she begs you," Gatsby said quietly as his voice broke. "I would not be here swallowing my pride and speaking to the man who sleeping with my wife if I wasn't desperate. Please, don't let her get on that boat and don't take her to bed tomorrow night. I am begging you."

Walking to the door, Gatsby walked out and left Matthew Spring standing silently alone in the large library. Walking down the hallways and steps towards the front door, Gatsby couldn't help but say a silent prayer that Matthew Spring showed some mercy to him. He prayed silently that Matthew wouldn't take Rebecca a world away to England. Gatsby prayed Matthew didn't take Rebecca to a place that made her unreachable because she was just within his grasps and he wasn't going to let her go when he had her.

Of that, Gatsby was absolutely certain.

* * *

 **Saturday**

 **May 31, 1923**

Matthew Spring was an honest man in his heart.

He liked to believe that he always did the right thing and tried to be a good person, but his meeting with Gatsby had made him unsure. Pacing the sitting room of the suite he'd rented for the night, Matthew wondered again at Gatsby's word. The man had practically begged him not to take Rebecca with him if that's what his plans were. Gatsby didn't care that his wife had spent months in another man's bed; Jay Gatsby just didn't want his wife to leave him.

Running a hand through his hair, Matthew knew that it took more than a little swallowing of pride to get a man like Jay Gatsby to visit the man that was sleeping with his wife. It took more than a little swallowing of pride to go on and ask that man not to take one's wife away or sleep with her anymore. Matthew had known the moment Murdoch had said that Jay Gatsby was calling on him that Gatsby cared for Rebecca.

Gatsby wouldn't have shown up on his doorstep if he didn't care.

It was almost ironic that Rebecca and Gatsby kept flip flopping on each other. One moment she wanted him and he didn't want her and then they would flip positions. It was aggravating, but Matthew knew that both Jay and Rebecca had feelings for one another. Walking to the bar and pouring himself a brandy, Matthew situated himself in a chair. Fishing the dark blue velvet box out of his breast pocket, he stared at the case for a moment before he flipped it open.

A large, square aquamarine stone surrounded by glittering diamonds reflected in the light as he stared at the necklace before him. The necklace had been in his family for over five hundred years and when he'd been in England after the war, Matthew had found the necklace sitting in the back of the family vault. The gem had instantly reminded him of Rebecca's eyes. He'd had the necklace redesigned and remade by the most expensive jewelers in London in the hopes of gifting the necklace to Rebecca as an engagement present. If his plan had worked out like he had hoped, Matthew was sure that both he and Rebecca would have been in England and the necklace would be forever fixed around her neck as a symbol of his love. The longer he stared at the necklace, the more Matthew could see the sad reality that his life had become.

"She was never mine to begin with," he whispered to himself as he took another sip of his brandy.

It was a truth he'd long since ignored, but he finally embraced it. Rebecca had never been his to love. Taking her to his bed had been wrong. Even if he loved her, he shouldn't have given into her impulsive needs. Being together had only served to confused her more as she had tried to sort through her feelings. Instead of loving her like he had, Matthew knew he should have simply been a friend to turn to. He should have been the friend who offered her a sanctuary in his gardens and a shoulder to cry on, nothing more.

Looking back over the past months, Matthew could see that he'd taken advantage of a confused woman at her most vulnerable time. Rebecca had been desperate for love and affection and he'd used that desperation as fuel for his own love. She'd once told him that she was afraid of using him as a means to an end, but Matthew could clearly see the truth. They'd used each other in different ways. His motives weren't pure like she thought and he wasn't pure in character either.

He and Gatsby were the same.

Carrying on an affair with a married woman when they both knew it was wrong. Matthew had seen the remorse in Gatsby's eyes when he'd brought Daisy up and he knew that the man regretted his choices. Shaking his head, Matthew stood up and tried to search for the right answer. He wanted nothing more than to take Rebecca into his bed one last time before he left. He knew that he wouldn't be returning to New York again during his lifetime. His mother and grandmothers were demanding he take a wife and sire children. Now that he could, the dreams of a family didn't seem so far off and untouchable.

It would hurt unbearably to know that he wouldn't be in bed with the woman he wanted to be with and the woman he wanted more than anything wouldn't bare his children, but he had one last chance to be with her. He had once last chance to love Rebecca with his whole mind, body and soul. Even though Gatsby had asked him not to take Rebecca into his bed, Matthew knew that despite everything he was too selfish not to.

He wanted one last night with the woman he'd loved since childhood. One last night of pleasure was all he wanted with the woman who had given him the strength to go off and fight a war. One last night and in the morning, he'd resign himself to a lifetime of memories filled with regrets and wishes that would never come true.

"I am sorry Gatsby," Matthew whispered again. "I can't do what you ask. I am not strong enough."

A knock at the door came and he stood up. The door opened and moments later, Rebecca entered the room with a smile. She was dressed in a pretty pink dress with cream embellishments and pearls were wrapped around her delicate neck.

"Am I late?" she asked him.

"Not at all," Matthew said as she walked towards him. Any thoughts of Gatsby were pushed from his mind as he watched her. What Gatsby had asked was too much. Matthew simply couldn't do it, but he could give Rebecca permission to move on. That was all she needed and it was all he could give her in the end.

* * *

 **Sunday**

 **June 1, 1923**

Rebecca stared up at the large ship that would carry Matthew across the sea and back home to England. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't cry, but just staring at the ship made her promise slip away from her a little more. The moment had come to let him go and she found it far harder than she ever thought possible.

Brighton opened the back door of her car and Matthew slipped out first. The soft wind blew at his dress coat and pants as he slipped on his Derby hat. A moment later, Matthew turned around and offered her his gloved hand. Taking it, Rebecca stepped out of the car into the bright sunlight. Dread filled her body as she looked around her. Workers and passengers alike stood side by side as supplies and luggage was loaded aboard the RMS _Beatrice_ which would take her passengers across the sea to Southampton. Matthew would set foot on English soil again with all the pomp and circumstance due to a man of his noble position. He would return to his sphere as member of the House of Lords and a war hero of the Great War. His grand estate would get the attention it needed and his mother would be happy to have her son home.

"I'll track down someone to take care of your luggage, sir," Brighton said with a tip of his unformed hat as he and Matthew's driver departed to look for someone to help them.

Matthew thanked both men as they scurried off to find help. Turning back to her, he gave her a soft smile. It was smile that Rebecca could barely return as she stared back at him. Her heart was breaking again and she could feel it in her chest. Gatsby had once broken it and Matthew's leaving was breaking it again.

"And so this is goodbye," Matthew said softly to her and his words only made her heart break more. Barely able to look at him, Rebecca lowered her eyes to the ground.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered. "I don't want you to leave me all alone in this world. Don't go or take me with you but, please, don't leave me."

Matthew's hands softly cupped her cheeks as he forced her to look up at him. His own blue eyes glistened with tears as he brushed her tears away with his thumbs. Her heart ached in a way it never had before and she knew that the ache would only become worse with time.

"I need you to tell me to get onto the boat," he whispered back to her. "I can't leave without you telling me to."

"Don't make this harder for me Matthew, please, take me with you."

For a moment, Matthew's eyes flashed like he was truly considering it, but he shook his head.

"Don't beg me to do something you know I can't do," he told her softly.

"Why? Why can't you take me with you?" Rebecca begged.

"We have a responsibility to our families," Matthew whispered. "You can't come with as much as you wish it. You said yourself. All good things must come to an end and our…thing must end here on this dock whether we like it or not. You must let me go, my darling. It's the only way I can get on this ship and it's the only way you will be able to go on."

The tears she'd tried to keep in check so valiantly fell down her cheeks as she looked up at him. Any hopes that Matthew would take her with him and save her from a lifetime of misery with Gatsby were shattered. Her heart was tearing into two and a dull pain was beginning in her chest. Pain that would become her constant companion for the rest of her life.

"Go on without you? How can I?"

"You will," Matthew promised softly. "You will go on in life without me. You'll be the mother of several beautiful children and the world will speak of your beauty until the end of time. People will love you as they've always done and you and I will become nothing more than memories. Memories that will become treasures. They're worth will be far greater than any amount of money or gems that can be offered to me. When someone you love becomes a memory, my darling, that memory becomes a treasure. You are a treasure that I will hold on until my very last dying breath. You'll become the treasure that no one can rob me of and I will become the same to you. We are a treasure that time and space will divide, but that treasure will live on in my heart and memories. You must go on and forget me. "

Shock covered her face as she looked up at him with confusion, "Why are you saying this to me?"

"We were nothing but a dream, my darling. A wonderful, beautiful dream that is over as sleep slips away from us. Now, we must wake up and face the real world. You can't come with me and you will move on with life. That's how this was always meant to work for the both of us. Maybe we could have been together in another time or a different life, but we have gambled with fate long enough. It's time to let go and move on with reality by our sides."

"I love you," Rebecca said weakly. "Please, that must mean something to you."

"You love me, but not the way you love another," Matthew whispered back softly. "You love him and we both know that. You told me that once and I can't take you with me in good consciousness because you have a duty, a responsibility, and a love here in New York. The feelings you have for him can't be erased. You and I both know this. That's why I am asking you to forget me and move on with your life. Forget me, my darling. That's what I _need_ you to do. I _need_ you to forget and tell me to go and get on the ship."

His words shocked her and Rebecca wished fate was playing a cruel joke on her. His words hurt more than anything she could ever imagine as she searched his face for some sign that he had lied, but Matthew's serious expression never wavered. He was serious and he wanted her to forget him. Rebecca knew what he wanted her to do, but she was sure that forgetting Matthew was impossible. Forgetting everything that had passed between them wasn't possible. Those memories would be the only thing she had with her now and she would cling to them like they were her favorite childhood bear or a security blanket.

"Tell me to go," Matthew said again. "The ship will be leaving soon and I need you to tell me to go."

Looking up into his blue eyes, Rebecca took a shaky breath. Her lips felt frozen and speaking felt like it was impossible. She wanted to scream at him that she couldn't say the words he wanted her to say. She couldn't do what he wanted her to do because she wasn't as strong as he thought she was. The only thing that stopped her was the look in Matthew's eyes. Matthew Spring didn't think she was weak. He needed her strength because just from the look in his eyes, Rebecca knew that he had a much harder task in front of him. He had to get on the ship and she barely knew how he would be able to move. Desperation reflected in his eyes as Matthew's hands cupped her neck. Rebecca wasn't sure how, but the words she needed to say came to her lips.

"Go," she whispered to him with tears running down her face. "Go and know that you'll always have a piece of my heart with you. Do not ask me to say goodbye to you because I refuse to believe this is goodbye."

Holding onto his wrists tightly, Rebecca let Matthew kiss her lips hard. She didn't care who saw them together. His lips were warm and firm against hers. The world slipped away from them and all Rebecca could feel was him. Her body and soul soared in a way she couldn't describe as a warmth unlike anything she'd ever felt spread through her. Their kiss only last for a moment, but it was a kiss that Rebecca was sure she would never forget for as long as she lived. Matthew pulled back slightly from her and for a moment his eyes met hers. His clear eyes were full of unspoken words and Rebecca knew they were words of regret. She could see how much pain he was in and she knew how much he wished he'd told her to wait for him. The sadder thought was that she would have waited for him if he had asked her. She would have said yes without a second thought.

Matthew hands slipped away from her and it took all the strength she had in herself to let him go. The warmth of his embrace left her feeling cold. Without another word, Matthew turned towards Brighton, who had returned with a dock worker and a few of the ships crewmen. Words were quickly exchanged between the men and within minutes the luggage that been in Matthew's car was unloaded. Workers worked quickly to take his things aboard the ship and within minutes, Matthew was following them.

Covering her mouth with her hand, Rebecca barely contained the sob that threatened to escape as she watched Matthew climb the stairs that was reserved for first class passengers only. He was one of many that would be on the first class deck with grand cabin and extensive service. The ship was set to leave dock soon and Rebecca couldn't help but watch. Matthew stopped at the top step of the stairs and looked over his shoulder at her one last time.

Never had fate felt so cruel as Matthew's eyes met hers and Rebecca realized it would be the last time she ever saw him. Desperately trying to commit every feature on his handsome face in her memory, Rebecca nearly cried out when he turned away and disappeared into the throngs of people on the deck. Strong arms caught her before she could collapse and see couldn't help but lean into Brighton as he held her up.

"I understand why she killed herself, Brighton," Rebecca whispered tearfully. "I know why my sister took her own life."

Within minutes, people waved and cheered goodbye to their loved ones as the ship moved away from the dock and towards the open sea. Flags were waved and many called out their last 'I love you'. Frantically searching the first class deck to catch one last glimpse of Matthew, she didn't see him again as the ship moved away from her. Standing on the dock for nearly an hour, Rebecca could barely move when the ship disappeared on the horizon. The crowds had already dissipated leaving a few sparse cars and people milling about, but her feet were rooted to the spot. The reality that Matthew had spoken of had hit her full force and the reality that he was gone triggered an ache inside her that she'd never known.

So engrossed in watching the horizon and the ship that had left, Rebecca didn't notice the three black cars pull up effectively blocking her and Brighton in. It was only when a familiar voice called to her that Rebecca felt the chills of reality return to her.

"And so the lady bids her fair love goodbye," Ares Patrick sneered. "How touching that the fair Mrs. Gatsby weeps at her lost lover."

Turning around and looking at the man who stood behind her, Rebecca could hear Gatsby's warning in her mind as Ares walked closer to her.

"I can't imagine that you care about my private affairs," she snapped at the man. "I'm curious to know why you're here talking to me at all. I can't imagine what we have in common or what we have to discuss."

Making a move to get away, Rebecca gasped in shock when Ares grabbed her upper arm tightly. Swinging her around to look at him, she watched as he brushed his coat aside. A gun was tucked inside his coat and the malicious look he wore on his face frightened her.

"Don't make a scene," Ares hissed. "We're going to walk to your car together and drive to the Plaza Hotel. We're going to walk up to my room there and you're not going to fight me or do anything to attract attention. Am I clear?"

Trying to yank back her arm, Rebecca scowled at Ares as he held on tighter to her arm. His touch wasn't like Matthew or Gatsby's. He wasn't gentle and she was sure that if he added anymore pressure, Ares would break her arm.

"And if I resist you and scream for help? Surely, you must know that I am Mrs. Gatsby. Everyone in New York knows who I am," Rebecca challenged. "What will you do then?"

One of Ares' henchmen stepped forward with a gun pressed to Brighton's head. Staring at the sight in front of her, Rebecca couldn't help but to feel faint as she watched her driver struggle with the man holding him.

"I will shoot that man if you resist me," Ares whispered in her ear as he pulled her close to his hard body, "I will cause you pain unlike anything you've ever experience. This is your only warning. Now, let's get going."

Yanking her arm again, Rebecca felt a pain in her shoulder as Ares hulled her towards her car. He all but shoved her into the backseat as Brighton was also forced into the car. Ares followed her into car and a henchman slammed the door shut behind him. Three men crammed into the front seat of the car with Brighton in the middle. The henchman who wasn't driving had a gun pressed to Brighton's side while he whispered threats to the younger man.

One of the black cars that had blocked them in moved. The driver followed the black car as the other two black cars followed them. Moving slowly over the docks, Rebecca couldn't help but to pray that Gatsby would come for her. He would know what to do in a situation like the one she was in. He would know exactly what to say and do to pacify Ares. As Rebecca prayed fervently, she knew the haunting truth.

Gatsby didn't know where she was at. He didn't know that she'd gone to see Matthew off after spending the night with him. No one but Brighton knew where she was and for the first time, Rebecca wished she'd told someone else where she'd gone. The cars weaved through the traffic and the dread that had been in her body before returned. She didn't know what they would find at the Plaza Hotel, but Rebecca was sure nothing good would come of going to Ares' room. Gatsby had mentioned that Ares had done unmentionable things. Things that she'd never be able to conjure up in her wildest dreams and nightmares. That was what Ares was capable of. Her heart nearly stopped as she wondered if Ares was taking her to her death.

Would he kill her?

Rebecca couldn't come up with any other reason why Ares would want her. She knew nothing about Gatsby's business and there was nothing she could do or say that would help Ares in anyway.

Was he going to kill her to make a point to Gatsby and Wolfsheim?

She didn't know what Ares had in store for her and it took all herself control to stop her hands from shaking as she cleared her throat.

"Are you going to kill me, Mr. Patrick?"

Ares turned towards her with a sinister smile, "There are things that are far worse than death, Mrs. Gatsby. I promise you that."

Rebecca barely had a chance to wonder at his words as they pulled up in front of Plaza hotel. A doorman from the hotel opened Ares' door and the man slipped out. One hard look from him frightened her as he offered her a hand. Rebecca knew that Ares wasn't faking when he'd told her that he'd kill Brighton. Slipping in tiny hand into his, Rebecca let him assist her out of the car. His grip was crushing as he held her hand in his tightly.

Walking through the doors, Rebecca barely looked at the people around her as they moved towards the elevators. Ares' henchmen followed behind them. Stepping into the elevator, Rebecca closed her eyes and tried to think of something she could do that would get both her and Brighton out of the mess they were in, but nothing came to mind. They were trapped and Ares was playing by his own rules and conditions. Rules and conditions that Rebecca had no knowledge of and Ares knew all her weaknesses. Brighton was shoved roughly onto the elevator with them as a few of Ares' henchmen followed. The elevator was cramped and the air was hot and heavy with tension. Meeting Brighton's eyes, Rebecca shook her head at the young man. She could see the overwhelming urge in his eyes to fight back but she knew if he did, Brighton would be killed without a second thought. It didn't matter to them if the elevator operator was present or not.

The elevator stopped at the sixteenth floor.

Quickly being forced out the elevator and into the hall, Ares' grip never loosened as he dragged her down the hall. A henchman opened the door towards the end of the hall and forced her inside the large suite. Past the entry room, a sitting room done in wood paneling was stylish and so was the rest of the furniture in the large room. The windows were open to fend off the heat that had seemed to show up overnight and a few electric fans blew air around causing the window hangings to catch every so often and blow around. The furniture looked comfortable and cozy with a matching color scheme of reds, blues, greens and dark woods. Parisian carpets covered the floor and a bar was on the opposite side of the room with alcohol stocked well on the surface. Brighton was forced to sit down in a chair near her. His hands were quickly bound and his feet tied to chair legs. A wad of fabric was forced into his mouth and a gun was pressed to his temple. A man threatened to shoot him if he didn't stop struggling and to Rebecca's relief, Brighton did as he was told. Ares hold on her never wavered as he forced her through the room.

Towards the left of the sitting room was a small room with wooden floors and a large circular table. A vase of roses stood on the lace table cloth. No other furniture was in the room except for a wing backed chair in each corner of the room. Beyond the small entry room, a bed room was visible with plush pillows and a richly embroidered golden cover. Tassels at each corner of the cover and an expensive painting above the bed, Rebecca could tell that the room was saved for those with money. It was the standard for wealthy people and those who could afford the room.

Ares forced her inside the small room with a hard shove.

He followed her inside and closed the double doors that had been opened. Richly carved, the dark doors matched the wood paneling and furniture around her. Had the situation not been so frightening, Rebecca was sure she'd had loved to explore each room and look at the fine details. Watching Ares lock the double doors, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest as Ares slipped the skeleton key into his vest pocket. His smile was sickening as he walked around the table to the bedroom. Rebecca wanted to follow him and demand he let her leave, but fear kept her in her place. Standing, she wasn't sure what would happen next but every survival instinct had been turned on. A few minutes passed and Ares returned with a devilish smile on his handsome face and what looked like photographs in his hand.

"I have a gift for you," he told her before tossing the pictures down on the table in front of her.

"What are these?" Rebecca asked not bothering to pick them up.

Another wicked smile crossed Ares face as he picked one up and slid it across the table towards her. The image on the other side of the photograph shocked her in a way nothing had ever done before. Denial swept through her veins as she stared at the black and white photo. It wasn't possible for the woman in the picture to be someone she knew but Rebecca would recognize her sister anywhere.

Naked as the day she was born, Mary stood smiling at the camera as one hand toyed with her nipple and the other hand cupped her womanhood. With a shaky hand, Rebecca grabbed another picture as horror bloomed in her chest. The second picture was no better than the first with Mary lying flat on her back with her legs opened. The third and fourth pictures were no better and Rebecca could feel her legs getting weaker beneath her. Even from the grave, Mary caused trouble. If the photographs were ever shown to a newspaper, Rebecca was sure that the ruin of their family would be the least of their problems. New York society would drive them out of city, if not the country, and they would lose everything they had gained and more.

Bringing a shaky hand to cover her lips, Rebecca barely contained the scream that threatened to escape her mouth as fury took over her. Mary, stupid selfish Mary, had once again landed them in a scandal and Rebecca wasn't sure how to get out the mess her stupid, younger sister had made this time. At least with Elizabeth, Nick Carraway was going to right his wrong and the world would never know that the child Elizabeth carried had been conceived before the marriage. It was the only small blessing that Rebecca could see at the moment as Ares Patrick prowled around the table watching her with keen eyes.

"I have spies everywhere, you see," he smiled. "Your sister is stupid and reckless, but Tom Buchanan? He's a brilliant man. You see, he knew that I knew Gatsby and Wolfsheim. He's not a stupid man and he knew that you were behind the poker game and the demise of his good name. I will take a moment to applaud you though. A brilliant plan and beautiful executed. If you were a man, I'd want you to work for me. However, you are not a man and in exchange for money, Tom Buchanan sold me the most damning photographs I've ever seen. Your beautiful sister, spread out like a whore for the whole world to see. I came to New York because I know your husband. He'd shell out as much money as he possibly could to prevent pictures like these from ever reaching the light of day. I saw it in his eyes the first night I met you. He cares about his pretty little wife. Cares about her enough that he'd turn a blind eye to her affair because he feels guilty about his own. Gatsby cares enough about you that he'd continue to pay off the newspaper people that your little lover was paying off to protect your good name. I think he'd first commit murder before he let anyone besmirch Rebecca Gatsby in the papers or in public for that matter. I came here looking for a large payment, but when I saw you…I knew exactly what I wanted."

"And what is that?" Rebecca said trying to keep her voice from cracking from the fear inside her heart. Ares continued to smile at her as he stalked around the table like a lion preparing to devour its prey. She felt his presence behind her back and the fear she'd been trying so hard to keep at bay slipped in. His hands touched her arms and nausea passed over her as his hands slipped down to hold her hips in a bruising grasp.

"I can prevent these pictures from ever seeing the light of day. I will give them to you to keep. They are the only copies," Ares hissed into her ear. "It will cost you dearly."

"How much money do you want?" Rebecca asked as she clenched her eyes shut. The feeling of his hands on her body was sickening. His hands that had tight grasped her hips pushed her forward into the table. Tears came to her eyes as pressed his body roughly against hers. His hand grasped a fist full of hair and forced her head back to look at him.

"It's not money I want, you filthy whore. I want one night with your body," Ares whispered as he pressed his lips and teeth into her neck. "That's what it will cost you to keep these pictures out of the press. To protect your beloved little family from the stupidity of your little sister and her lover, your body is the payment I want. "


	14. XIII: Only If for a Night

**Part XIII: Only If for a Night**

 _"...And I heard your voice_  
 _As clear as day_  
 _And you told me I should concentrate_  
 _It was all so strange_  
 _And so surreal_  
 _That a ghost should be so practical_  
 _Only if for a night_

 _And the only solution was to stand and fight_  
 _And my body was bruised and I was set alight_  
 _But you came over me like some holy rite_  
 _And although I was burning, you're the only light_  
 _Only if for a night..."_

Only If for a Night" - Florence + the Machine

 **Sunday**

 **June 1, 1923**

Sliding off the bed, Rebecca could barely hold herself up. Collapsing down on the ground, she tried to stop her trembling hands, but they wouldn't cooperate. By some miracle, Rebecca managed to force herself to stand up. Grasping the vanity tightly beneath her, she stared into the mirror. The lifeless woman who stared back barely looked alive to her. A harsh, black and blue bruise covered her left cheek and a bloody, split lip matched the smeared red lipstick she'd worn. The dress that she'd been wearing earlier was gone and her she was completely naked. Hand prints were etched into her skin where Ares had grabbed her tightly and bite marks were scattered across her once white, marble skin. Bruises colored every inch of her skin and bloody marks were printed in patterns from where Ares had beaten her with his leather belt.

Her wrists were raw from the rope biting into her skin. She'd tried to fight him, but it only seemed like Ares enjoyed her struggling even more. Not able to stare into the mirror for a moment longer, Rebecca turned away and reached out for the bed. She barely made it to the bed before collapsing back down. Sitting with her legs dangling from the side, Rebecca couldn't move. Even though exhaustion penetrated her veins, she couldn't bring herself to move. She couldn't bring herself to look away from the blood on the inside of her thighs.

* * *

Gatsby tapped his finger tips against his dark wood desk with a frown. It was nearly eleven o'clock in the evening and Rebecca still hadn't returned home. A pit of fear was forming in his stomach that she might have actually gotten on the ship with the Earl. Just the thought of Rebecca sailing a world away made him sick to his stomach. He didn't want her to go somewhere he couldn't follow. Logically, Gatsby knew that he was piss poor excuse for a husband. Matthew would love Rebecca and treat her the way she'd always deserved to be treated, but he was too selfish to let her go.

He was too selfish and he knew it.

Leaning back in his chair, Gatsby glanced at the clock and swore softly. One a few minutes had passed since he'd last checked and it drove him crazy. It was late and his body felt tired, but the idea of going to sleep and not knowing where Rebecca was didn't appeal to him in the least. Gatsby doubted he'd be able to fall asleep anyways. Ares' appearance in New York had caused a stir and many people were worried about Ares Patrick expanding into the North. Gatsby knew for a fact that the Southern bastard would never move his business to New York. Still, other people didn't believe that and Gatsby had spent most of the past few days trying to calm others who were panicking.

Glancing at the clock again, Gatsby closed the ledger he'd been working on. There wasn't a point to even trying to work because he couldn't get his mind to quiet. Scenario after scenario, kept popping up in his mind about what could have possibly happened to Rebecca that she would be so late coming home. Each thought was worse than the one before it and they were becoming scarier by the minute. Gatsby jumped when the wire rang and he quickly grabbed the phone. Before he could say anything, a familiar southern drawl floated through the receiver.

"Old chap, how's your wife?"

"Patrick," Gatsby growled. "You have a whole hell of a lot of nerve calling me."

"I thought you might want to know about your little rose," Ares replied sounding highly amused. "She is a darling, after all."

Before Gatsby could say another word, Wolfsheim burst into the room with his right hand man, Hermann. Looking up at the intrusion with a raised brow, Gatsby was sure he'd never seen Wolfsheim look so pale in all the time he'd know the man.

"What is that you want?" Gatsby hissed into the phone.

"You should go to the Plaza Hotel," Ares said with a smirk evident in his voice. "I left you a surprise."

Violently hanging up the phone, Gatsby looked at Wolfsheim.

"What?" he snapped angrily.

"You better come with me," Wolfsheim said quietly, "You need to see this, Jay."

* * *

The drive to New York City had passed in a tense silence.

Wolfsheim's driver had gotten them there quickly, but it did little to alleviate Gatsby nerves. A silent Wolfsheim was never a good thing and Gatsby had never seen Wolfsheim acting like he was. Nervous and on edge, Gatsby was sure he was seeing a side to his old friend that he'd never seen before. The smooth, confident Wolfsheim was gone and in his place was a man who looked like he'd seen a ghost. Stepping out into the warm air of the very early morning hours, Gatsby looked around to see that everything looked normal. Buildings were lit up and cars passed them. It didn't matter that it was a little after midnight; New York was always alive and moving.

Walking into the Plaza Hotel, Gatsby followed Wolfsheim to the elevator with a few of his men trailing behind. The ride passed in silence until they reached the floor Wolfsheim had asked for. Stepping out into the hall, Gatsby followed Wolfsheim down the hall to one of the last doors. The murmur of soft voices from the other side of the door could be heard as Wolfsheim put the key into the lock of the door. Turning the door knob, Wolfsheim entered the room first and Gatsby followed. A few windows were open to let summer air in and dilute the smell of alcohol. A Doctor, Gatsby recognized as Wolfsheim's, was crouched down in front of a young man he recognized instantly as Brighton, Rebecca's drive.

The man's face was swollen and bruised from an obvious beating and even though Gatsby was elegantly dressed and looked every inch the gentleman he was, he felt an anger unlike anything he'd ever felt take hold. The anger he felt dissipated quicker than anything as fear took hold of him in the next minute.

If Brighton was here, where was Rebecca?

As if sensing his thoughts, Wolfsheim looked at him for a moment before turning to Hermann.

"Get everyone out of here," Wolfsheim told him. "Make sure we can get out of here with no one seeing us. Got it?"

"Sure thing, Boss," Hermann nodded before telling everyone to clear out. One by one, Wolfsheim's people trickled out of the room. Gatsby's closest man, Edwards, looked at him for direction.

"You want us to go too, Boss?"

Gatsby only nodded at Edwards. It only took a minute for the room to be completely emptied with the exception on Brighton and the doctor.

"I can't do much for him," the doctor told Wolfsheim after a moment of silence passed. "The swelling will go down on its own. There's no brain damage or broken bone that I can see of feel. Mr. Brighton here will just have a nasty headache for the next week, I'm guessing."

"Thank you, Doc," Wolfsheim replied. "Wait in the hall until we call you."

With a nod, the doctor quickly packed up his things and was out the door. Taking a seat in the elegant arm chair across from Brighton, Gatsby rested his forearms on his knees and looked at his driver. Hiding all the worry and fear he felt, Gatsby cleared his throat.

"What the hell happened, Brighton?" he asked with a frown as the young man pulled the linen ice pack away from his face.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gatsby," Brighton groaned. "I couldn't stop it."

"Stop what?" Wolfsheim barked, "What couldn't you stop?"

"It was after Mrs. Gatsby saw Lord Kettlemore onto the ship," Brighton started. "She was just standing on the dock for a long time after he left and I didn't want to intrude on her. She looked so broken, so I didn't do anything. All of a sudden, three black cars pull up and they block us in. One of the men put a gun to my head and told me that if I did anything, he'd shoot me and he'd shoot Mrs. Gatsby."

"Who did it?" Wolfsheim asked. "Who was it that grabbed you both?"

"I heard Mrs. Gatsby say his name once. She called him Mr. Patrick and she asked him if he was going to kill her. I didn't hear the reply, but he brought us here. His men tied me up here and Mr. Patrick took Mrs. Gatsby into a different room."

"Where is she?" Gatsby demanded as he stood up and violently kicked the small table closest to him. He barely registered the sound of wood breaking and the crystal glasses that had been on the surface as he looked at Brighton. The young man pointed towards the dark, elegantly carved doors with a shaky hand.

"Patrick took her back there," Brighton whispered. "She was screaming for hours and I don't know what he did to her and why. All I know, Mr. Gatsby, is that I don't want to know what happened behind those doors. No woman deserves what probably happened to Mrs. Gatsby."

Gatsby turned to the doors and walked to them slowly. Resting his hand on the door knob, he closed his eyes. Brighton was right. No one wanted to know what happened behind the doors and knowing Ares Patrick, Gatsby had a vague idea of what Rebecca had endured. Anger swept through his veins again and he resisted the urge to violently break something. Taking a deep breath, Gatsby willed himself to be calm. Rebecca had probably seen enough anger and violence and he didn't want to frighten her. The only thing he wanted to do was protect her and be there for there. Those feelings were foreign to him, but somehow, despite everything, they felt right.

Slowly turning the door knob, Gatsby looked over his shoulder one last time to make sure no one else was in the room. He wasn't going to let anyone see Rebecca, no matter what condition she was. He wouldn't let her be humiliated anymore than she already probably was. Pushing open the doors to the hotel bedroom, Gatsby wasn't prepared for what he saw. Stepping into the marble floored sitting room, Gatsby barely took in the details around him as he looked through the twin set of double doors. A bedroom was on the opposite side of the sitting room and sitting on the bed was Rebecca. He closed the door behind him and walked slowly towards her. Rebecca's back was towards him and his heart nearly stopped.

He'd seen those marks before on women and Gatsby closed his eyes for a moment. The last woman he'd seen those marks on had been brutally beaten and raped by Ares Patrick. Praying silently that Ares had violated Rebecca in anyway, Gatsby stepped into the bedroom. He had barely taken two steps when he stopped. Bending down, he picked up and a familiar piece of fabric. He'd seen Rebecca wear the dress before, but it was barely a dress now. The fabric had been ripped in several places and it was obvious that Ares hadn't been gentle or kind about it.

He'd been violent.

Gatsby heard a sniffle and looked up. Rebecca's bruised shoulders were shaking and a sheet was clutched to her body tightly. Kneeling down next to her, Gatsby could see her bruises more clearly than ever and his heart ached as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Rebecca?" he asked softly. "Rebecca?"

She nearly jumped when he said her name and she turned to look at him. Her jaw quivered and her hands shook. Gently slipping the photographs that she was holding out of her hands, Gatsby stared down in disgust at the smiling face of his idiotic sister-in-law. In that moment, Gatsby was sure he'd give half his fortune to resurrect Mary Harper from the dead to strangle her himself. It seemed her stupidity knew no bounds and he knew that he wasn't the only one who wanted to strangle the stupid bitch. Kneeling down in front of Rebecca, Gatsby gently took her hands in his. Harsh angry red marks around her wrist looked painful and it was obvious that the skin had been rubbed until it was raw and bloody.

"Who did this?" he asked her softly, feeling sick.

Brighton had told him that Ares Patrick had done this and Gatsby silently prayed that Brighton was wrong. He desperately wished this was all a nightmare and he'd wake up soon in his library. Rebecca would be sound asleep in bed and all this would have been some horrible dream. Rebecca made a choking sound as she tried to blink back tears. Her hands still trembled and when Gatsby's tried to cover her hands with his, Rebecca flinched.

"He told me he would publish the photographs if I didn't….if I didn't…do what he said," she told him tearfully after a few minutes. "He…he…he said I had no other choice. I tried to offer him money, but he said he wanted me…for one night. My body was supposed to be his payment."

Rebecca's voice broke at her last words and she began to sob. Covering her face with her hands, Gatsby watched as she let out an agonizing scream. Quickly taking his coat off, he wrapped the light wool around her shoulders. He could see the bruises and bite marks that marked her skin. She didn't need to tell him what Ares had done because Gatsby already knew. The bruises on her body looked like hand prints and he'd seen them before on other unfortunate women who'd crossed Ares Patrick's path.

"Shh," Gatsby whispered softly as pocketed the pictures of Mary. "No one is ever going to see those pictures. We'll burn them Rebecca. I promise no one will ever look upon them again."

His words did little to stop her crying as she collapsed down on the bed. Her face buried in the sheets, Rebecca continued to cry and scream. Wolfsheim must have heard her because he raced into the room. Gatsby was on his feet in a moment and stopped Wolfsheim before he could enter the room any more than he already had.

"Have my car brought to the back of the hotel," Gatsby told Wolfsheim in a quiet voice. "No one can see her or me."

"It's already done, but I'll make sure it's perfect myself."

Gatsby nodded and looked back at Rebecca's huddled and shaking form. Moving to take a step towards her to tell her about the plan, Gatsby stopped when he felt Wolfsheim's hand on his shoulder.

"Jay," Wolfsheim said quietly, "Patrick didn't…"

Knowing what he meant, Gatsby shook his head, "I don't know, but I think he did."

Gatsby wasn't sure how they managed to get out of the Plaza Hotel unseen, but he was sure Wolfsheim had taken every single precaution to make sure they weren't seen. Somehow, a clean sheet had been delivered to the room shortly before Wolfsheim called and told Jay he could come down.

By the time they'd been ready to go, Rebecca had been claimed by exhaustion and had passed out. Using his coat and the sheet, Gatsby had been able to wrap her up and carry her down the hall to the elevator. Wolfsheim had met him there and the way out had been smooth and clear. Relief had flooded through Gatsby when they'd gotten to the cars unseen. The whole drive back from New York to West Egg, Gatsby had held Rebecca and he hadn't let her go. Wolfsheim's driver had driven with as much care as possible and had apologized with every bump and dip he hit on the road. Seeing the gates of Gatsby Manor, Jay had never been so grateful when the car had stopped and Crawley had opened the door. With a grave face, the butler had said nothing as he'd slipped out of the car. Carrying Rebecca up the steps, Gatsby had issued orders to have Tilly and the housekeeper met him in Rebecca's dressing room with a warm bath.

Quickly walking to Rebecca's rooms, Gatsby was relieved to see Tilly there along with his aging housekeeper. Water was already running and the large claw foot tub was rapidly filling. Mrs. Miller, the housekeeper, instantly moved to set up a screen to block anyone's view of what was happening. Lowering Rebecca to the vanity chair, Gatsby was loathed to set her down in case he caused pain. Rebecca was alert enough to keep herself upright and she did when Gatsby helped her to sit. Kneeling down in front of her, he gently held her upper arms.

"I'm going to sit on the other side of the screen, alright?" he said softly. "Anything you need, all you have to do is ask. That's all you have to do. I will do everything in my power to make sure that you get what you want. Okay?"

Rebecca raised her head and looked at him. Dark circles marred her bruised face and her skin was paler than he'd ever seen it. Her hands had barely stopped trembling since he'd found her and from the way her bottom lip trembled too, Gatsby knew she was barely holding it together.

"Mr. Gatsby, sir."

Mrs. Miller's soft voice forced Gatsby to look away from Rebecca. The older woman wore a look of concern as she nodded at Mrs. Gatsby, "Mr. Crawley said that Mr. Wolfsheim called your personal physician. We can help Mrs. Gatsby, sir, if you want to go speak with Doctor Williams."

Gatsby nodded and looked back at Rebecca, "I'll just be in the other room. All you have to do is call for me and I'll be at your side in a moment."

Rebecca didn't say anything and with one last gentle touch to her arm, Gatsby stood up. The minute he was behind the curtain, he heard it, a soft sobbing sound from Rebecca and the hushed soothing voices of both Mrs. Miller and Tilly. A cry of pain came along with the sound of sloshing water. Closing his eyes, Gatsby did his best not to let his own anger carry him away as he listened to Rebecca's sobs as they grew louder. Any intention of seeing Doctor Williams left his mind as Gatsby settled himself down into the single chair Mrs. Miller had left for him. Resting his forearms on his knees, Gatsby stared at the screen.

Nothing had ever prepared him for what was happening. He'd only just started imagining what life with Rebecca could be like now that he was free of the chains Daisy had imprisoned him in. The future had seemed so bright only days ago, but now…Gatsby wasn't sure. He wasn't sure what he could do to help Rebecca. The truth was that the trauma she'd experienced changed people. She would change as a result of what Ares had done to her and Gatsby wasn't sure how she'd change. He'd met men whose wives had similar things happen to them. Some of them hadn't spoken in years, while others couldn't stand to be touched, but no matter what happened, Gatsby promised himself that he wouldn't do anything to further Rebecca's pain and hurt. He'd keep her as safe as he could and shelter her from the vicious world. Her birthday was coming soon and she'd suffered far more than any young woman should. Gatsby couldn't help but to feel he was to blame for everything.

Listening to her whimpers of pain, he barely felt the tear falling down his cheek until it hit his hand. Not able to bare it, he stood up and walked out of the room. He hoped that Rebecca could forgive him, but he could barely stand to sit and listen to her cries of pain. God only knew that she was far stronger than him. Just as his hand reached the door knob, Gatsby stopped and turned back around. He'd made Rebecca a promise to sit. Leaving her when she needed him most wasn't something he would do. Going back to the chair, Gatsby sat down and did the only thing he could do.

Plan his revenge on Ares Patrick.

* * *

It was nearly an hour later that Gatsby stood and watched as Tilly helped Rebecca into bed in a loose fitting nightgown. Both the housekeeper and Tilly had done their best to bandage up Rebecca's back and her many bite marks. The doctor would look at them further, but Mrs. Miller had assured him that she didn't think Rebecca needed many stitches. They had asked Gatsby to leave the room earlier when they had examined Rebecca between her legs. Without a word, Gatsby had left and he was relieved to learn from Mrs. Miller that Rebecca's body wasn't damaged badly. The housekeeper was confident that nothing would prevent Rebecca from being intimate when she'd healed.

Neither of them spoke of the lingering 'if' in the air. The only way Rebecca would ever be intimate with him was _if_ she let him touch her. Considering what Ares had done, Gatsby knew that it would be a very long time before he ever touched Rebecca. Stepping into the bedroom, Gatsby nodded at Tilly as the young maid scampered out of the room, leaving him alone with Rebecca to await the doctor he'd sent Mrs. Miller to retrieve some medicine.

"Is there anything you need?" he asked her gently, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"My vanity drawer," Rebecca whispered in shaky voice. "There's a note in the drawer on the left. May I have it?"

With a nod, Gatsby stood up. He walked quickly to the drawer she had told him about and opened it. The only content of the drawer was a familiar note. Picking up the note he'd written over a year ago, Gatsby stared at the words with dread. He hoped to God she wasn't about to ask him to let her leave him. He knew he'd tell her yes, but he didn't know how he'd have the strength to gone on without her. Turning and walking back slowly to her, Gatsby held out the note.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked.

"I'd like to cash it in now," she replied tearfully. "Can I?"

Quickly sinking back down onto the bed, Gatsby suppressed his rage as he stared at her bruised and tear stained cheeks. The oversized nightgown that Tilly had recommended she wear for comfort had fallen down one of her shoulders and the bite marks he'd seen earlier spoke of the violence Ares had used against her.

"You never have to ask permission," Gatsby told her gently as he reached out to touch her, but Rebecca flinched away.

"What is it you want?" Gatsby continued as he ignored the pang of hurt in his chest that she regretted his touch.

"C-c-can you s-s-stay with m-m-me for the n-n-night?" Rebecca asked as tears rolled down her cheeks, "I don't want to be alone. I'm afraid to be."

A violent sob escaped her chest and her breathing came in short gasps. It sounded like she was choking and Gatsby grabbed her shoulders. His touch only seemed to make her attack worse as her violent sobs continued. She tried to push him away, but only succeeded in nearly falling out of the bed. Gatsby let her go so not to her bruised skin. Rebecca scooted as far away from him as she could and hugged the foot board post tightly as she sobbed harder than ever.

Standing up and striding to the front doors of Rebecca's suite, Gatsby yanked the door open. Wolfsheim stood on the other side of the door with Tilly, who looked like she was under investigation for something.

"Fetch the doctor, now!" Gatsby snapped at Tilly before he turned away. Returning to Rebecca's bedroom, Gatsby grabbed one of the blankets off the bed and gently wrapped it around Rebecca's shivering form. She'd stopped crying and the dead look in her eyes frightened Gatsby more than anything.

"Rebecca," he started softly. "Why don't we get you back in bed?"

Rebecca didn't say anything to him as she continued to stare blankly at the wall. Debating on what to do, Gatsby was grateful when he heard the door open and the familiar voice of his personal physician floated to him.

"She's over here with Mr. Gatsby," Tilly said as she directed the tall, red haired man to them.

Crouching down with his leather bag, Doctor Williams wore a concerned look on his face as he stared at Rebecca.

"How long has she been like this?"

"A few minutes," Gatsby replied as Williams dug around in his bag. "She was hysterical before and I went to see if you were here yet, Williams."

"Is it alright if I give her a sedative?" Williams asked it will let her rest and sleep while we examine her.

Gatsby gave permission with a nod. Neither man was prepared for the violent fight Rebecca gave the moment Doctor Williams gently touched her arm to give her the shot with the sedative.

"Stop it! I said stop it!" Rebecca shrieked as she shoved Williams' hands away from her, "Don't touch me! Leave me alone!"

Gatsby grabbed her quickly and wrapped his arms around her thin frame. Holding her against his chest, he watched as Williams administered a sedative to a combative Rebecca through a needle. It only took a few moments to work and slowly, Rebecca's whole body relaxed in his arms. Her head rolled back and rested against his shoulder. Scooping her up, Gatsby turned back towards the bed. Tilly scrambled over to his side and quickly fixed the pillows and sheets that had been displaced. Gently lowering Rebecca down, Gatsby stared at her for only a moment before he stepped out of the way. Tilly quickly made sure that Rebecca was fully covered before slipping back.

"Mr. Gatsby?"

Turning, Gatsby stared at the young face of the personal physician he employed. At twenty-eight, Doctor James Williams was an eager man with a brilliant mind when came to medicine. He never asked too many questions and Gatsby knew he could always rely on the young man to give his people the best care possible. He just never thought he'd have to introduce his wife and the physician, who mainly dealt with gunshot wounds.

"Williams," he breathed. "I'm glad you're here."

"Do you think that my colleague, Doctor Stevens, and I could examine Mrs. Gatsby?" Doctor Williams asked in a soft spoken voice as a severe looking man entered the room. "We'll treat her and make sure she's comfortable and then we'll report to you our findings if that's acceptable."

"Only if Tilly stays with you," Gatsby said quietly, already not liking the idea of leaving Rebecca alone with the two doctors.

"Of course," Williams agreed quickly. "Tilly is more than welcome to stay at her mistress' side."

With one last, lingering look at Rebecca, Gatsby forced himself to leave the room. Telling himself over and over again that he was doing the right thing by having Williams examine Rebecca, Gatsby retreated to his library where Wolfsheim sat quietly with a tumbler of whiskey. Remembering the pictures in his pocket, Gatsby walked to Wolfsheim and stopped. The older man looked up at him with a worried expression.

"How the hell did this happen?" Wolfsheim asked quietly. "How the hell did Ares leave that hotel without anyone knowing? We both had eyes on that hotel!"

"I don't know how he got out. But, I know this! Mary Harper is like a goddamned ghost that just won't go away. She's a bitch that can't leave people alone. I'd like to resurrect her and kill her myself," Gatsby growled as he tossed the pictures down on the desk for Wolfsheim to see.

"How the hell did he get these?" the other man asked as he looked at the scandalous pictures of Mary Harper.

"Probably that jackass, Tom Buchanan, sold these pictures off to Ares when he found out that he was broke. Buchanan is the only one who would have these pictures unless that slut I call 'sister-in-law' has another secret lover no one knows about."

Taking out a lighter from his pocket, Wolfsheim grabbed a photograph and lit the corner of the photo on fire. Tossing the fiery image into the fireplace, Gatsby watched as the flames eagerly licked up the photographs as Wolfsheim tossed them in one by one.

"One problem solved," he said quietly as Gatsby continued to stare.

Both men sat in silence until the arguing of two men broke the silence. The yells grew louder until Crawley opened the door to the library and let the two arguing doctors into the room.

"She clearly is hysterical about what has happened," Doctor Stevens argued. "A few months spent in a hospital will help and if that doesn't there are other ways to treat hysteria."

"So, you think she has hysteria now?" Doctor Williams argued back, "The woman was attacked for God's sake! I think she's entitled to be hysterical!"

"So she claims!"

"Did you or did you not examine her yourself? She has all the symptoms of a woman who was attacked. Bite marks, bruises, her body is in a horrible condition and she's in much physical pain and discomfort. That's not hysteria!"

"The best thing for her would be to administer a clitoralectomy or hysterectomy," Doctor Stevens shot back. "It will clear up her hysteria very quickly and she will be able to move on with her life. It can be administered at the hospital where she will receive the best possible care and comforts to help her through her condition."

"She doesn't have a condition! She's a victim of abuses, not some surgical patient for you to operate on!"

The doctors continued to argue until Gatsby snapped and threw his glass of brandy at the wall.

"If you think for one goddamned moment I will put her in a mental institution or hospital, you must be crazy," he snapped angrily as he pointed a finger at the Doctor Stevens. "I know what you people do to your patients and I will be damned to hell first before I ever let you lay a finger on my wife. Don't you dare think for one moment I will let you rob her of the ability to a pleasurable marriage bed or the chance to, God willing, bare her own children."

"Mr. Gatsby," Doctor Stevens implored. "Please try and be reasonable."

"Reasonable? You think I should be reasonable? You just told me what you want to do to her and you want me to be goddamned reasonable?" he shouted. "How about you two act like doctors in instead of recommending I send her to an asylum! Come up with a more reasonable course of action. Maybe then I'll be more goddamned reasonable. Doctors Williams, you may go see Mrs. Gatsby and give to her maid the treatment you approve and believe will help Mrs. Gatsby the most. However, before any treatment is administered, you will speak with me before you leave."

Doctor Williams nodded and left in hurry as Gatsby furious eyes turned to the aging Doctor Stevens.

"I still stand by what I said before," Doctor Stevens said stubbornly. "I believe that Mrs. Gatsby suffers from hysteria and has evidently harmed herself as a result. I can cure her of the illness, if you let me, Mr. Gatsby."

"Mr. Crawley can show you to the door Doctor Stevens," Gatsby said tightly. "Your services are no longer required here Doctor."

Without another word, Gatsby turned back towards the window trying to control his breathing.

"Have you ever heard of such a stupid operation?" Wolfsheim said quietly as the door clicked closed after Doctor Stevens had left, "The cure to hysteria is making sure one's wife is highly satisfied in bed, not ending any chance of her experiencing pleasure."

Gatsby poured himself another brandy in a new tumbler and sank down into the closest chair that overlooked the bay. He was weary in his bones and his soul was exhausted. The only comfort that he had was that Rebecca was asleep and she didn't have to deal with the horrors that had happened to her until she woke up. Running a hand over his tired face, Gatsby closed his eyes. He didn't know how to help Rebecca when she did wake up. There were not any words he could say to her that would offer her comfort and no promises would ever make her feel truly safe. He'd already increased security around the house and the grounds in the hopes that maybe if she knew plenty of people were around making sure that no one entered the house, she'd feel somewhat safe in her own home.

Opening his eyes and staring out at the annoying green light that blinked in the distance, Gatsby clenched his fist tightly. Ares wasn't going to get away with what he'd done to Rebecca. If Gatsby only ever kept one promise to Rebecca, it would be that he'd have revenge against Ares for the sick bastard had done to her. He'd move heaven and earth to see Ares Patrick dead. Gatsby didn't care if it took him a lifetime to hunt that bastard down, he would. Ares Patrick was a dead man walking and Jay Gatsby was sure that Patrick knew it too.

"We'll get him, Jay," Wolfsheim said quietly as if he could read Gatsby's mind, "We won't let that disgusting son of a bitch get away with what he's done to her. I have my men and your men canvassing the city and area. We'll find that disgusting excuse of a man."

Gatsby twisted his signet ring on his finger as he stared out at the bay. He didn't say anything as a knock on the door sounded. Both men turned to see Crawley enter the room with a solemn face.

"Mrs. Gatsby is still asleep," Crawley said quietly. "However, Chicago is on the wire."

"Tell Chicago that I will call them back later," Gatsby replied quietly. "I promised Mrs. Gatsby that I'd stay with her and I don't intend to break that promise anymore than I already have. You can go, Mr. Crawley."

With a nod, Crawley left leaving Gatsby alone with Wolfsheim again.

"I meant what I said before, Jay," Wolfsheim started again. "We will have revenge. That despicable prick won't hurt anyone else once we're through with him."

"As a long as I get to be the one to kill him," Gatsby growled angrily before throwing his tumbler into the fireplace. The glass smashed and the flames from the fire eagerly licked up the alcohol. Exiting the library and walking to Rebecca's room, Gatsby slipped quietly inside. Instead of being asleep like Crawley had said, Rebecca was sitting up and bed. She looked exhausted and her braided hair was threatening to come undone.

"You should be asleep," Gatsby said softly as he crouched down in front of her. Taking her hands, Gatsby rubbed his thumbs over the icy cold skin of her hand.

"I couldn't sleep," Rebecca admitted so softly that Gatsby barely heard her. "I close my eyes and all I can see…is him. I didn't think you'd come back either."

"I made you a promise," he told her. "I won't break anymore."

Rebecca stared at him for a moment. Her eyes were filled with sadness and her tear streaked face was pale. Gatsby knew that she didn't believe him and he didn't blame her. Trusting him wasn't something that would come easy, but Gatsby promised himself that he wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. He'd been the source of her pain for a long time and he would be damned if he remained that source.

"Will you lay down with me?"

Her soft words startled him and without thinking, Gatsby nodded. Taking off his suit coat and shoes, he awkwardly laid down on the bed next to Rebecca. He wasn't quite sure what to do, but he was surprised when Rebecca curled herself up next to him. In the darkness of the room, Gatsby could feel the weight of her head resting in the junction where his shoulder and neck met. The light weight of her arm around his waist was comforting in many ways and even though her body was broken and bruised, Rebecca's skin was soft like velvet. It was a pleasant feeling until he felt teardrops on his neck. Hugging her closing to him, a wave of protective feelings unlike anything he'd ever experienced flooded his senses. The urge to get out bed and hunt Ares Patrick down himself was overwhelming. However, Gatsby willed himself to stay in the bed with Rebecca. She needed him in that moment more than she'd ever needed him before and he wasn't going to abandon her. He'd abandoned her enough for one life time and he swore to himself that he wouldn't abandon her ever again.

"Go to sleep," he mumbled to her before pressing his lips to the top of her head. "I promise you Rebecca that he can't and won't ever hurt you again. I swear that nothing will ever hurt you again."

Slowly, Gatsby could feel the tension leave her body and relax and soon, she was asleep.

* * *

The first thing Gatsby was aware of when he woke up was being alone. Sitting up in bed, he looked around the bedroom. The curtains that had been drawn the night before were open and he could hear movement in the sitting room. Getting out of bed and walking to the sitting room, Rebecca was seated on one of the settee's with a cup of tea between her hands.

"I think the cream colored linens, Mrs. Miller," she said in a quiet voice.

"Ma'am?"

"Did you forget that my sister is getting married in a few weeks and we're hosting the reception?" Rebecca replied coolly. "Honestly, just because we haven't told my parents yet that they're getting married, doesn't mean we can't plan ahead."

"Are you sure that's wise ma'am? In your condition?"

Gatsby watched as Rebecca's shoulders stiffened. The tea cup rattled as she put it and the saucer back down on the silver breakfast tray.

"What condition Mrs. Miller are you speaking of?" she snapped coldly. "I don't what you mean."

Her words were enough to bring Gatsby to his knees and all he could think of was how he should have let, no begged, Matthew Spring, Earl of Kettlemore, to take Rebecca with him. It didn't matter the scandal that would have been caused. In that moment, Gatsby knew he would have rather taken a hundred scandals if it meant he could have prevented what had happened to Rebecca. Closing his eyes, Gatsby knew she'd never speak of what had happened. No, Rebecca would pretend it had never happened while inside, her rape ate away at her heart and soul, devouring it alive.


	15. XIV: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

**Part XIV: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody**

 _"...A little party never killed nobody, so we gon' dance until we drop_  
 _A little party never killed nobody, right here, right now's all we got_

 _Islands, diamonds, trips around the world_  
 _Don't mean a thing if I ain't your girl_

 _A little party never killed nobody, so we gon' dance until we drop_  
 _A little party never killed nobody, right here, right now's all we got..."_

~ "A Little Party Never Killed Nobody (All We Got) - Fergie, Q-Tip & Goonrock

 **One Week Later**

 **Sunday**

 **June 10, 1923**

Gatsby's predictions about how Rebecca would handle the situation were spot on.

She'd thrown herself into planning Elizabeth and Nick's reception that they would host at the end of the month with more gusto than he'd ever seen. From dawn 'til dusk, Rebecca worked tirelessly with Mrs. Miller, Tilly, and Mr. Crawley to order things and prepare the house exactly how she wanted it. Make-up could expertly hide the bruises in the light of day, but Gatsby knew that the night was a whole different story. Each day, Rebecca looked more and more exhausted. Tilly had confided to Mrs. Miller, who in turn had turned the information over to him, that Rebecca wasn't sleeping well. Nightmares plagued her and twice in the past week, Gatsby had found Rebecca sleeplessly wondering the halls. She would stare at some of the painting that lined the hallways before moving on to another room or object. Each time he approached her, Rebecca would faithfully tell him that nothing was wrong. The only problem was that she couldn't sleep.

Watching her now as Tilly helped her into white lace gloves, Gatsby could see the pattern. When they'd first gotten married and he'd rejected her brutally, Rebecca had thrown herself into her various charities and organizations. It had been all she had and she'd clung to it with a strength he hardly knew she possessed. When she'd learned the truth about his affair with Daisy, Rebecca had again thrown herself into something, or rather someone. Matthew Spring had become the lifeline that Rebecca had clung to during those long difficult months. Now, Rebecca was throwing herself into planning Elizabeth's reception and wedding as much as she possibly could. Elizabeth's wedding was the only thing she had to cling to and Gatsby was sure that it was the only thing that made her get out of bed in the morning.

It was a pattern that Gatsby couldn't believe he'd missed, but it was a pattern that he understood. Not having to face reality was easier for Rebecca than having to actually deal with the painful events of life. Throwing herself into charity meant that she didn't have to feel the humiliation of being turned away by her own husband. By hiding from the problem, Rebecca never had to deal with the emotions of it. She could bury it away and keep it locked tightly in a box somewhere deep inside her. Turning to Matthew gave her an outlet that she'd never experienced before when she'd been confronted with the horrifying reality of her husband's affair. Matthew had taught Rebecca physical pleasure and Gatsby was sure, Rebecca had used that new found knowledge and drowned herself away in physical feelings instead of letting herself feel her own emotions. Again, she'd buried away her pain and she hadn't let it reach the surface. Now, she was using the wedding as an escape from her trauma. It was far easier to pick out napkins and table settings than it was to face the reality of what Ares had done to her.

There was only one problem Gatsby could see with Rebecca's method of coping.

Eventually, the box that she kept all her emotions locked away in, would one day break. One day, all those emotions that for so long Rebecca kept buried deep inside, would come floating back to the surface and she'd be left feeling everything that for so long she'd suppressed. Just from her behavior and the sleepless nights, Gatsby knew that the day was coming soon. He'd seen the same pattern in his own mother and it had destroyed her in the end. She hadn't been able to cope with anything and he feared Rebecca would be the same. He feared she'd turn into the same catatonic woman his mother had become after the death of her child.

Accepting his Darby hat from Crawley, Gatsby nodded at the young servant boy who opened the front door. Nick stood on the second to last step looking out at the bay. Turning to see that Rebecca was ready to leave, Gatsby let her exit first before following her down the steps. She passed Nick without a word and let Weatherbee, Gatsby's personal driver, hand her into the dark blue coupe. The car was Gatsby's second car that was rarely used. Today, however, Gatsby had ordered it up. They weren't going to for a joy ride in the country and Gatsby had already sold the Rolls Royce that had once been Rebecca's. The blue coupe had been the only choice and with Nick, the back would be a tight fit.

"Old sport," Gatsby greeted Nick quietly. "Today is the day."

Nick only nodded and took his hands out of his pocket. Gatsby did a double take as he stared down at the gold band that rested on Nick's ring finger. The urge to violently hit Nick was overwhelming for a moment as he stared.

"I married her last night, Jay," Nick told him. "It couldn't wait any longer. Elizabeth and I were both in agreement on this. Her maid, Violet, was our witness."

Gatsby groaned out loud.

The plan had originally been to tell Mr. and Mrs. Harper that Nick was going to marry their youngest daughter. Now, they were going to have to explain that Elizabeth had married Nick Carraway in a secret ceremony the night before. Not bothering to say anything, Gatsby turned and began to walk towards the blue car.

"Jay!" Nick called as he followed quickly. "I know you're not happy—"

"Not happy is the understatement of the year," Gatsby hissed as he turned around and pointed his finger at Nick. "Rebecca has been corresponding with her mother about you while Elizabeth has been singing your praises left and right like a bird. We've been building up this moment. Now, instead of telling Katherine Harper that her youngest daughter is engaged, we're going to drop a bomb on both Edward and Katherine and tell them that you married their daughter in a secret ceremony with the maid as witness. God only knows what Katherine will do and I can't protect you from the rage of Edward without putting myself in the line of fire. We were trying to avoid a scandal, man! Now, you and Elizabeth may just have invited it into our homes!"

"I'm sorry Jay," Nick answered in a quiet tone. "We were thinking of the baby."

"New Yorkers aren't dumb. They will put two and two together and get four! Sit in the front with Weatherbee."

Shaking his head, Gatsby turned and slipped into the car. Next to him, Rebecca wore a frown on her elegantly painted red lips. Looking at Gatsby, she held her hands together and watched him with an air of nervousness.

"What's wrong?" she asked as Nick slipped into the passenger seat next to Weatherbee.

"We have a slight complication," Gatsby told her. "Nick married Elizabeth last night."

* * *

Sitting in her mother's drawing room, Rebecca held her saucer and cup of tea in her hands as she waited for Nick, Elizabeth, and her parents to return. Nick had asked for a private meeting in the library with Katherine and Edward. Elizabeth had injected herself into the situation as well, leaving Rebecca alone with Gatsby.

Seated next to her in the twin of the chair she sat in, Gatsby's legs were crossed as he drank his own tea. Silence had been their companion for the past ten minutes and in those ten minutes, Rebecca's anxiety had grown. The last time she'd been alone in the drawing room with Gatsby was before she'd married him. They'd sat and talked for hours. It was the only time she'd ever truly felt like she'd known the real Jay Gatsby. A part of her desperately wished she could go back and time and tell her younger self the truth. Reveal to her younger herself the path that was laid before if she married Jay Gatsby, but that was only a useless fantasy. She couldn't undo time. She could only pray that the conversation Nick was conducting concluded quickly.

"It's been a long time since we were in this room together."

The sound of Gatsby's voice breaking the silence forced Rebecca to look at him. His own tea cup had been set aside and his hands were crossed in his lap. The image of sophistication, Gatsby looked every inch the gentlemen he professed to be. A small voice in the back of her mind taunted her that Ares had looked like a gentlemen too. Just the thought of Ares made her hands tremble and Rebecca quickly put her own teacup and saucer down.

"Several years," she finally told him after a long pause. "That was a very long time ago."

"You surprised me then like you do now," Gatsby told her with a soft smile. "I hadn't expected Rebecca Harper to be a great lover of John Locke or Voltaire. I hadn't expected her to be interested in politics and government. I hadn't expected to meet a young woman so in love with Shakespeare."

His words caught her off guard as she stared at him. Something about his demeanor made her feel like she could trust him. His words were kind and his tone was, dare she say it, affectionate. He smiled like he was reliving a good memory and enjoying it.

"What did you expect?" she asked him. A guarded feeling came over her, but Rebecca felt curious too. Gatsby had never spoken of their courtship or any past part of their relationship.

"I wasn't expecting a woman who enjoyed a good debate," he smiled fondly. "I was expecting to sit here and listen to you go on and on about the latest fashion trend or something. I wasn't prepared when you asked me what I thought of John Locke's philosophy and the American founding."

Remembering Gatsby's flabbergasted face from all those years ago, Rebecca couldn't help but to laugh a little at the memory.

"You recovered quite well the next time you came," she reminded him with a smile. "It was very impressive that you'd come back at all and had studied his writings just for me. I was quite flattered."

"I realized then that I would have to make sure I was prepared for every possible topic. It was quite nerve wracking sometimes," he admitted.

Gatsby's words only made Rebecca laugh more, "You? Nervous? I don't believe you for a moment!"

"I was!" he defended with a smile. "Now, when it came to Shakespeare, I felt confident. That was a topic I enjoyed."

Staring at him, Rebecca felt her own thoughts shift as she relived the memories Gatsby had stirred up.

"Was it all true?" she asked him quietly. "Did you really like the things I liked Jay? Or was it a ploy? Did you only tell what I wanted to hear so I would marry you?"

The moment they'd been enjoying had come to end and Gatsby was quiet for a moment before he stood up. Crouching down in front of her, Gatsby took her hands in his and brushed the pads of his thumbs over her knuckles.

"Every word I ever spoke to you was true," he murmured softly to her. "You had me like a fish on a hook, Rebecca. True be told, if I hadn't been so…obsessed with Daisy…I could have easily let myself fall in love with you. I still can remember the feeling of your lips on mine that day in the park. You frightened me unlike anything else in this world. I'd rather have taken on a legion of the German army that day than have faced what I was feeling."

"I don't know if I should take that as compliment."

A smile briefly returned to Gatsby's lips, "I think then I was dangerously close to falling in love with you."

"But Daisy stopped you," Rebecca returned softly. "You love her and I long ago accepted that you will never love me."

"I _loved_ Daisy," Gatsby told her fiercely. "I _loved_ her. I don't love her anymore. I don't think I ever really loved her the way you think I did. She only wanted me because I showered her with gifts and she never really loved me like I thought. It's quite pathetic to think I wasted years pining after a woman I don't really want. You see, there's this other girl I've fallen for."

Rebecca slipped her hands out his grasp and shook her head, "I can't do this. I don't want to hear about the girls you've fallen for."

Standing and slipping around him, Rebecca could barely breathe. She didn't want to listen to him talk about anyone else. She'd been through enough and she wasn't sure she could endure anymore.

"I'm not talking about another woman," Gatsby said as if he could read her thoughts. "I'm not talking about anyone but you, Rebecca."

"You only feel sorry for me," she breathed as she turned to face him. "I'm poor little Rebecca again. You swept me off my feet when Mary's scandal had left my family nearly destitute and now, poor little Rebecca needs saving again and you're sweeping in. You'll drop me again if I let you pick me up and I don't think I can bear to be dropped again. Don't pick me up, Mr. Gatsby. I that know you've been kind and dare I say wonderful these past few months but please, don't do this to me again."

Before Gatsby could say anything else, the sound of yelling could be heard from the hallway.

"Don't you dare come back into my house again," Edward Harper yelled. "You scum of the earth!"

All the focus had instantly shifted from the conversation they'd been conducting. Both Gatsby and Rebecca walked to the drawing room door. Yanking it open, Rebecca looked into the foyer to see Nick being shoved to the door by an angry Edward Harper.

"Papa! Please! Stop it!" Elizabeth begged tearfully. "Please! Don't hurt him! He's my husband!"

Elizabeth's words only seemed to fan the flames of anger in Edward.

"You come into my home and announce that you've married my daughter and expect me to be understanding? How dare you!"

Everyone seemed to speak at once. Nick tried calming down Edward as Elizabeth engaged in a fierce battle with their mother. Rebecca tried to end the argument between mother and daughter as Gatsby watched, waiting to only step in if things turned violent. The argument stopped abruptly when Edward Harper took a swing at Nick. The older man's fist connected with Nick's cheek and him tumbling to the floor. Gatsby managed to intervene before Edward could hit the man again.

"Not here," Gatsby hissed as he held back his father-in-law's arm. "Not in front of your wife and daughters."

His words seemed to calm Edward and Gatsby let him go. Taking a step back, Gatsby looked to Rebecca. Her face betrayed nothing, but he could see worry and fear in her eyes. Her whole body had gone rigid and her cheeks were pale. Taking a step towards her, Gatsby only stopped when he stood next to her. Her hands were trembling. Reaching out, he covered both her hands with one of his. Her skin felt like silk under his fingertips and her hands felt cold like ice.

When Edward Harper took a step towards Nick, Gatsby felt her squeeze his hand tightly. Giving her knuckles a soft caress with his thumb, he was surprised to feel her grasp on his hand relax a little. If the moment had been any different, Gatsby would have been sure she had just trusted him. Watching his father-in-law closely, Gatsby gave Rebecca's hands a soft, affectionate squeeze. He hoped she understood his silent promise that he wouldn't let anything bad happen to her or her family.

"Get out of my house," Edward told Nick calmly. "And don't come back again."

In the next moment, Elizabeth broke away from her mother's side and rushed to Nick. Helping him up, she took hold of his hand as Edward narrowed his eyes at her. Rebecca moved towards the situation, but Gatsby grabbed the inside of her elbow gently.

"Don't," he murmured in a soft tone. "This is their battle, not ours…not yet."

Looking between him and her sister for a moment, Rebecca stood silently and watched with apprehension.

"Go to your mother," Edward said again in a calm voice that was deceiving. "Now, Elizabeth, go!"

"No," she replied firmly, "I am not your little girl. I am Mrs. Carraway and if you're going to throw my husband out, you are throwing me out by extension."

"We are going to correct this problem speedily and quietly," Edward hissed. "Don't let me ever hear you call yourself that name again, _Miss Harper_."

"It's a little too late to try and fix things now Papa," Elizabeth reasoned. "We can't undo things."

"Nonsense! We'll simply get you both a quick and quiet divorce."

"Mr. Harper—"

"I'm with child, Papa," Elizabeth announced before Nick could finish. "I'm with child and we are going to be a very happy."

A silence descended upon the foyer as Rebecca turned her back on Nick and Elizabeth. She rolled her eyes heavenward and shook her head as Gatsby watched the scene unfolding closely.

"What?" Katherine Harper hissed as she walked to her husband's side. "You stupid, foolish girl! How could you?"

More yelling ensured and in an impulsive moment, Gatsby guided Rebecca to the drawing room door. Pulling them both inside, Gatsby closed the door behind him and blocked out the majority of the yelling. Rebecca sank down onto the closest settee and cradled her forehead in a hand.

"What a disaster," she said after a few moments. "If Nick had just—"

"Delaying wouldn't have served them well," Gatsby reasoned. "They have a child to think of."

At the mention of a child, Rebecca looked up at him through narrowed eyes, "Of course, their _child_ had to be thought of."

Her words were dripping with sarcasm as she stood up and walked to the window. Hugging herself and staring out at the back gardens of Harper House, Rebecca shook her head.

"They wouldn't even be in this mess if it wasn't for their child," she told him. "Both she and Mary are foolish."

"Does that make us foolish by extension?" Gatsby snapped back. "After all, look at us."

The skirt of Rebecca's dress twirled around her as she turned and faced him with blazing eyes.

"Don't you dare bring up Matthew or that…that…woman," she told him with a shaky voice. "Matthew can't even have children and for all you know Daisy could be having your first born child in Paris right now. Don't you dare confuse _us_ and _them_ , we are different. Mary knew exactly what she was doing and Elizabeth isn't naive enough not to know how children are conceived. They both knew what was happening."

Walking towards her, Gatsby stopped in front of her and reached out. Cupping her cheek, he was close enough to her that he could smell the French perfume she'd worn on their disastrous wedding night. The scent enveloped him and teased every sense he possessed.

"Haven't you ever been carried away by passion?" he asked her quietly. "Have you never desired someone and had no thought to the consequences?"

Her jaw trembled as she looked up at him, "A woman never reveals anything. Even if I did, I would never tell you."

Moving out of his reach, Rebecca pressed herself as close as she could to the window and stared out. Her body was stiff and it only took Gatsby a moment to realize that Rebecca was truly uncomfortable with him so close to her. A few touches here and there were fine, but he was close to her. Taking a step back, Gatsby moved to sit in the chair next to her. Before either of them could say anymore, the door to the drawing room opened and a flustered Katherine Harper walked.

She looked at the both of them for a brief moment before moving over to the abandon tea tray a maid have served earlier. Rebecca moved to the settee where her mother sat making herself a cup of tea.

"Your father is furious and right full so," Katherine said quietly. "I don't know what we're going to do. Edward is convinced that we should publicly disown Elizabeth."

"That will ensure an even bigger scandal than Mary's. New York won't forget Mary so quickly if Elizabeth has a scandal as well," Rebecca reasoned.

"I tried telling Edward that, but your father is dead set on keeping with traditions."

Rebecca clenched her free hand into a fist. There were no traditions in their world. Everyone spoke about traditions and following them, but no one actually followed them. Everyone was a hypocrite, herself included and so were her parents for thinking that they could protect themselves by throwing their children under the bus.

"Maybe Mr. Gatsby could make your father see reason," Katherine said quietly. "He can make your father be reasonable. Go ask him, quickly girl!"

As Rebecca stood, Katherine Harper reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"You'll stay for dinner tonight, won't you? It will be the perfect opportunity for Mr. Gatsby to talk to Mr. Harper," the older woman babbled with a firm look. "Don't you think so?"

Giving a nod, Rebecca managed to extract herself from her mother's talons and walked slowly to Gatsby. Standing in front of him, Rebecca looked down at him. His brow was furrowed like he was deep in thought and his shoulders were tense. Whatever was going on inside Gatsby's mind, it wasn't something pleasant. The way he continually clenched his fist made Rebecca wonder exactly what he was thinking about. Gatsby must have sensed her presence after a moment because he visibly relaxed and looked at her with a soft smile. Any prior tension had left his body and brow completely. His fist relaxed and he looked up at her with a gentle look in his eye that made Rebecca wonder when the last time she'd seen Gatsby look at her so tenderly.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your thoughts. My mother wants to know if you're going to do something about Nick and Elizabeth," she said softly. "Are you going to go speak to my father? Surely, you must know that he trusts your judgment beyond anything else."

Gatsby relaxed back into his seat more and gazed out the window. Shaking his head, he turned back and looked at her. There was an air of fatigue about him that lasted only a moment as he reached into his pocket.

"You're father is angry and needs time to calm down. Once he's calm, I'll talk to him," Gatsby replied in a hushed tone as he looked around her at Katherine.

"And when will that? You know she's going to send me back here if I don't give her an exact answer."

"I don't know," he told her calmly. "It could be today, it could be a week from today. I know that I'm asking a lot of you, but trust me Rebecca. Besides, if she does send you back, you're more than welcome to stay. We can make it look like we're in serious discussion and you're mother will buy it. It can't be that hard."

"My mother invited us to dinner," Rebecca sighed. "Should I accept?"

"If you want, I leave that choice entirely up to you."

With an even deeper sigh than before, Rebecca turned away and walked back to the other side of the drawing room where her mother sat nursing her tea. Settling herself down into the settee, she watched as Gatsby took a small black book from his pocket. With a small pencil, she watched as he began writing something. Fascinated, she watched as his lips moved silently with every word he wrote.

"Will you be staying for dinner?"

Katherine Harper's words jolted Rebecca out of her thoughts as she looked at her mother and accepted the teacup and saucer that was offered.

"Yes, we will," Rebecca replied. "Jay said he'd speak with Father about Nick."

"Good," Katherine answered. "I don't like what your sister did, but this family cannot endure another scandal. We have to accept Mr. Carraway into the family. It doesn't matter if we like him or not. They are married. We have to convince your father to accept the young man."

"We will endure, Mama. We always do. Don't worry about Nick or Elizabeth."

* * *

Dressed in the evening suit that his valet had sent over, Gatsby watched as the ladies left the dining room. The table was empty except for the small ash tray that Edward Harper kept next to him. A heavy smoker, Edward enjoyed a good whiskey with his smoke after dinner. Watching his father-in-law set the crystal decanter down on the snow white table cloth, Gatsby accepted the whiskey Edward poured.

"I know what you're going to say," Edward sighed as he sat down in his chair to the left of Gatsby.

"What is that?"

"I should accept Nick Carraway into the family. Cigar?"

"No, thank you," Gatsby declined as he watched Edward light the cigar. "You might not like it, Edward, but Nick is a part of the family now. There is no avoiding that."

"No avoiding it? Of course I can avoid it! The problem is that Katherine spoiled those girls," Edward Harper snapped. "She spoiled them and let them run wild. She blames me for what happened to Mary, but in the end, the only one that is blamable is her. If she'd taken more interest in her children and been a mother, maybe I would still have a middle daughter."

Gatsby kept silent. It would be far too easy to point out to Edward that he was also to blame for Mary's behavior. Edward was the young woman's father and it had been his job to protect his family. If he, however, pointed out Edward's flaw, the older man was likely to fly into a rage and any hopes of convincing him that Nick needed to be accepted publicly by the Harper's would be flushed down the drain.

"You can avoid it now, but there will be a scandal. This whole problem will blow back on you whether you want it to or not. That's generally how these things work," Gatsby sighed as he raised his small tumbler of whiskey to his lips.

"Why are you trying to convince me that I should accept Nick? What do you get out of convincing me, Jay?"

"I get to see my wife happy," he replied after having taken a drink. "I get to see her enjoy life with her last living sister and I get to secure my children's future. Times are changing, of course. They aren't, however, changing fast enough that New York will forget Mary Harper. I confess that everything I do is in the hopes that any child Rebecca and I may have, won't be tarnished by that particular scandal. If we minimize Mary's scandal to a simple fluke, the only scandal that blotches the Harper name, the chances of New York forgetting Mary increases greatly. If you reject Elizabeth and Nick, New York remembers Mary better than ever and Elizabeth's name is dragged through the mud as well as Rebecca's. I will withstand many things Edward. Rebecca's name being brought into another scandal and dragged through the mud, that is one thing I won't allow. Should you choose not to accept Nick and Elizabeth into the family and another scandal ensures, I will do all in my power to break our connection publicly and distance myself and Rebecca as much as possible for the sake of the future."

Edward frown and a flash of anger passed over his eyes. Gatsby knew he had Edward right where he wanted him. Rebecca was her father's favorite and threatening to take away his little girl, Gatsby knew Edward would consider all his options more carefully. The older man knew, his words weren't threats, but they were promises.

"Say I do accept Nick, what is to stop gossips once they figure out the reason for Elizabeth's quick marriage?" Edward asked haughtily before inhaling the cigar.

"Babies are born early all the time," Gatsby said with a shrug. "You can't predict when they'll arrive. We'll simply make sure that the public believes that Elizabeth conceived right away and had a difficult time. Maybe we'll send Nick and Elizabeth out to Westchester County. I have a country house there I can install them in until the baby is born. City air can't be good for Elizabeth right now."

"Do you really think that will keep the papers silent?" Edward demanded. "What if someone sells the story? What if another maid decides to invest in her retirement?"

"If that doesn't convince them than we'll just have to line the pockets of the right people," Gatsby replied calmly. "It doesn't take much to silence the right people. The reason your maid invested in on her retirement with Mary's scandal and sold the story was because you gave her prime opportunity. She was privy to all the details of what had happened. The way you avoid things like that is to keep your people in the dark."

"Covering for Elizabeth and Mr. Carraway doesn't excuse what they've done wrong," Edward stated with a frown.

Twisting the wedding band that he'd recently started wearing, Gatsby stared down at it only for a moment before clearing his throat. There was only one way he could convince Edward Harper to accept Nick into the family. It meant that he might very well lose Edward's good opinion of him, but Rebecca had asked him to convince her father and that was what Gatsby planned to do.

"I had an affair last year with Daisy Buchanan," he admitted as he leaned back in the elegant chair. "I hurt your daughter very deeply. I lost her trust and I don't know if I will ever get that back, Edward. I don't know if I will ever win her heart back or if she'll ever forgive me enough to try and help me fix what I've broken between us. If we're going to be honest about wrong doings Edward, your list and mine run far longer than Nick and Elizabeth's combined. If we are to crucify your own daughter and son-in-law to the papers, why don't we crucify ourselves as well? God only knows we deserve it too. The only reason why the papers don't know about my affair with Mrs. Buchanan is because of Matthew Spring's desire to protect your daughter when I chose to forsake her. If it's the papers you're worried about, I will take care of them, Edward. Have no fear. Your name won't be dragged through the mud."

"How exactly do you propose we introduce Mr. and Mrs. Carraway to society?" Edward asked quietly after a few minutes. "How do we explain a quick and quiet marriage like theirs?"

"Rebecca has been planning what should have been Mrs. Carraway's reception. Nick and Elizabeth were married by a judge, not a priest. You can still have a 'wedding' and pacify the masses. We'll just think of it as the welcoming party to the family instead."

Before Edward could respond, a knock at the door came. Bidding whoever it was to enter; Gatsby stared at the aging butler, Mr. Taylor.

"I beg your pardon for interrupting, sirs," the man said. "Mrs. Harper would like to know if you'll be joining them in the music room for cards."

"Tell her we will," Edward said as he put out his cigar. "We'll be along in a minute."

Taylor nodded and left the two men alone.

"I can see your point, Jay," Edward finally conceded after a few moments of silence, "We don't really have a choice, do we?"

"Not unless we want a repeat of Mary's scandal," Gatsby said quietly. "However wrong they were, Nick Carraway married your daughter. He did the right thing and corrected the mistakes he has made. You can't fault him for that or hold it against him. He's a good man, Edward. Just give the poor man a chance to prove himself."

Edward looked long and hard at him before tossing back his whiskey and standing up, "We best not keep the women waiting."

* * *

 **Wednesday**

 **June 17, 1923**

Staring out the window of Gatsby's blue car, Rebecca sighed silently as she watched the buildings pass by. Gatsby had quickly come up with a plan to ease Mr. and Mrs. Carraway into society without too much trouble. With the support of both the Harper's and the Gatsby's, Nick and Elizabeth were sure to have little trouble in society. Other families had also easily accepted the new couple, but Rebecca wasn't so sure that they'd done so willingly. She didn't want to believe the worst about Gatsby and Wolfsheim, but she knew they had something to do with the easy acceptance Nick and Elizabeth had faced.

Most of the problems that her father had predicted would happen had not happened and mostly, it was thanks to Gatsby's planning. He made sure that they'd gone to the theater and were seen at every single respectable place one could possibly think of. Along with hosting a few small dinners in the past week or so, Gatsby had spent many hours with Nick, teaching him about what was expect of him now as the Harper heir. At the party coming up at the end of the month, Edward Harper was announcing Nick as his sole successor and heir. The title frightened Nick, but Rebecca was sure that he'd be just fine in the role with both Elizabeth and Gatsby guiding him.

For herself, Rebecca had thrown herself into planning Nick and Elizabeth's party. It was her only escape from her thoughts and God only knew she needed the distraction. Every night was a constant battle inside her mind when she tried to sleep. It felt like every time she closed her eyes, Rebecca could feel Ares' hands on her skin. She could feel his teeth sinking in her flesh and she could feel his bruising grasp on her body. Just lying still, she could hear his grunts and pants in her ear as he forced himself inside her.

Closing her eyes, Rebecca did all she could to push the memory away.

While it was easier to be around people again, the memory of that night still haunted her every step. It was slowly carving a cavern inside her and she wasn't sure how to handle it. Pushing down the emotions was slowly becoming exhausting, simply because she couldn't do it much longer. Every time she pushed the feelings down, they came spiraling back up. It was an endless cycle and she desperately wanted to tell anyone what was happening. She wanted help, guidance, anything that would help her, but she was scared to say anything. Asking for help meant she'd have to tell another soul of the horrors Ares had inflicted and Rebecca was frightened that if she spoke about it, the events would become more real and vivid with each word she breathed. What was more, Rebecca didn't want to relive what Ares had done to her anymore than she already was. The burden and the shame she carried was sure to double if she spoke about it and Rebecca was sure that with time, the memory would lessen and all she would have to do was chalk that night up to nothing more than a bad dream. If she kept that night as only a bad dream, it wouldn't hurt her anymore.

The car came to a stop outside the Metropolitan Gala. A suited man opened Gatsby's door and Rebecca watched as her husband slipped out. He turned and offered her his hand which she willingly accepted. The summer breeze felt comfortable against her bare arms. The sleeves of her dress covered her shoulder and brushed against her knees. The wide brim of her hat protected her from the sunlight as she turned and looked to see a smiling Nick helping Elizabeth out of their red car. Playing with pearl buttons on her white lace gloves, Rebecca was relieved when Gatsby offered her his arm and they walked over to Nick and Elizabeth.

Rebecca was silent through the exchanges of pleasantries. Within a half hour, their group was inside the museum staring at some of the most beautiful paintings in the world. Just getting to see them was a wonderful distraction from her muddled thoughts and fears. Gatsby never let her stray too far from him and even though it was possibly annoying at times, Rebecca had to admit that with Gatsby, she felt safe. Walking around the building with him, Rebecca lost track of Nick and Elizabeth, who had wondered off on their own. Standing at the railing to the floors above, she could see her youngest sister and new brother-in-law standing next to each other as they stared at the painting before them.

"They look happy together," Gatsby commented as they stood side by side, both holding onto the railing. Staring down at her sister and Nick, Rebecca simply nodded. Nick and Elizabeth did look happy. In fact, they looked very happy together. A surge of jealous flashed through Rebecca's veins as she watched them. The opportunity to ever be as truly happy as Nick and Elizabeth had been snatched away from her. Resentment brewed beneath the surface and Rebecca tried to push it away. Her sister deserved happiness and she should be glad that Elizabeth had found such happiness. However, the feeling that she'd been robbed of her chance at joy ached inside still.

The past couldn't be undone.

Her actions as well as Gatsby's would live on in their memories and for the first time in a very long time, Rebecca couldn't help but wonder what her life would be like if Matthew had asked her to wait for him. As quick as the thought of Matthew came, Rebecca dashed it. The road she was on was a dangerous one and if she took it, the road would only make her more miserable. Before she could get off the road, the thought of Gatsby nearly startled her.

What would her life have been like if Gatsby had allowed himself to fall in love with her?

He'd already admitted that he didn't love Daisy and never had loved her in any real sense of the word. He'd never loved Daisy and he'd even told her that if he'd let himself, Gatsby was sure he could have fallen easily in love with her.

Could that truth still be possible?

The firm hold she kept on her emotions slipped a little as she looked at him. Denying that she'd ever loved Gatsby was useless. She'd fallen in love with him very quickly and it was comforting to know that she'd fallen in love with the real Gatsby. His confession days earlier that everything he'd told her was the truth was a small comfort in many ways. Yes, he lied about Daisy, but Gatsby hadn't lied about his love of Shakespeare. He hadn't lied about his likes and dislikes and Rebecca wasn't sure if he'd purposefully made her fall in love with him. She'd done that on her own and as Gatsby had admitted, he too had come very close to loving her.

Could he still come to love her?

Staring at the handsome man she hadn't truly ever stopped loving, Rebecca felt scared and vulnerable. After everything that had happened with Ares, she wasn't sure she ever wanted to be loved, touched, or connected to another human being. What he'd done to her felt like pain she'd never experienced before and if she opened up to Gatsby and was hurt again, Rebecca wasn't sure she'd be able to keep living. There was only so much hurt a heart could take before it gave out.

"They have a few painting from the 17th century if you'd like to go look at them," Gatsby said, drawing Rebecca out of her thoughts as he offered her his arm. "We could leave Nick and Elizabeth here and slip away. They're married now, they don't need chaperons."

Looking at the man she'd loved for a very long time, Rebecca nodded and tucked her lace gloved hand into the crook of his elbow. Walking with him made her feel almost normal again as they walked past other guests at the museum. They were even stopped a few times by people Gatsby knew. A few of the people that they'd met were people she'd never met before. Each time Gatsby introduced her, he called her 'my lovely, Mrs. Gatsby'. Each time he used those words, Rebecca could feel her heart flutter involuntarily in her chest.

With each smile, gentle gesture and soft spoken word, Rebecca found herself in danger of succumbing to Gatsby all over again. No matter how much she fought it, she couldn't fight the truth that despite everything that had happened to her, Gatsby had been nothing but caring and protective in the past few weeks and it put her in more danger than ever.

* * *

 **Thursday**

 **June 18, 1923**

It was late when Gatsby stood to greet Wolfsheim. He'd spent most of the evening playing cards with Rebecca and only when she'd retired for the night had Gatsby retreated to his library. He had just finished up most of the work he wanted to accomplish for the night when Crawley had shown Wolfsheim in.

"What can I do for you, old sport?" Gatsby asked as he stood and shook hands with Wolfsheim. "Can I offer you a drink?"

Wolfsheim shook his head as he sat down in the closest chair and crossed his legs. Taking a cigar out of his pocket and lighting it, Wolfsheim took a puff before grinning.

"I have news."

Gatsby's posture instantly stiffened as he took the seat opposite Wolfsheim, "What did you find?"

Wolfsheim took a thick envelope out of his pocket and tossed it at Gatsby, who caught it with ease. Gatsby opened the envelope and was surprised to find himself looking at torn out pages from a ledger. Looking at the top corner, Gatsby spotted Ares' family crest and raised an eyebrow.

"Is this..."

He looked up at Wolfsheim for confirmation and the other man grinned.

"Old bastard is broke," Wolfsheim chuckled. "Son of bitch lost every penny of his fortune. I don't know how. Frankly, I don't care. All I know is that Ares is running out of places to hide and eventually, we'll smoke that son of a bitch out and we will find him Jay. I have no doubts about that. We will smoke him out with ease and I know it will be soon. I've got half my men working and the other half trying to run this bastard out of the ground. I will say that in the future, if needed, I think your men and mine could be very lucrative at finding people when needed. I smell a good business opportunity."

"I don't understand why Ares didn't take the money Rebecca offered him for the pictures," Gatsby replied standing. "The money he could have extorted from her would go a long way to fixing his financial problems."

"He got greedy, Jay," Wolfsheim murmured quietly as Gatsby opened his safe behind a painting and tossed the envelope inside. "He got greedy and over played his hand. He signed his own death warrant even though both you and I know the logical thing would have been for him to take the money and run."

"He signed his death warrant either way. I would have still tracked him down and killed him for even approaching my wife, let alone trying to extort money and hurt her."

Wolfsheim nodded and took another puff of his cigar before a gentle knock on the door came. Gatsby called out for whoever was on the other side of the door to enter. His eyes softened when he saw Rebecca look around the door tiredly. Wolfsheim must have seen her too because he stood up and cleared his throat.

"I'll be on my way home for the night," he said politely. "Thank you for letting me in. I hope that this new information will be useful to us in many ways. I'll show myself out."

"It will be," Gatsby assured Wolfsheim before shaking his hand. "Goodnight, old sport."

Wolfsheim bid goodnight also and tipped his hat at Rebecca before silently leaving the library. Rebecca slipped into the dimly lit room and looked around as Gatsby walked back to the safe and closed it. Neither said a word as Gatsby moved back to the chair he'd been sitting in and sat down. He pulled an ottoman close to his feet and propped them up in front of the fire.

"What was Meyer doing here so late?" Rebecca asked as she stood in front of him. The fire behind her lightened the room and Gatsby could see through the thin material of her nightgown. The nightgown fell just after her knees and the thin straps were ideal for summer. The material clinched just under her bust and the fabric flowed out. Through the material, Gatsby could see the gentle curve of her hips. He could clearly see how her tiny waist flared into an hour glass shape and the urge to reach out and pull her to him was overwhelming. The only thing that stopped him was the timid and frightened look on Rebecca's face.

"Is everything alright?" she asked him. "Why is Meyer here so late? It's nearly two o'clock in the morning."

Her words brought Gatsby back to reality as he swung around and looked over his shoulder. The tall grandfather clock in the corner registered the time.

"You're still awake?" he asked with a frown. "It's late."

"I couldn't sleep," Rebecca admitted. "I'm…I'm afraid to go to sleep."

"Do you trust me?" Gatsby said softly as he reached for her hand. Staring at him for only a moment, Rebecca nodded. Pulling her to him, Gatsby helped her to cuddle up in his lap. Her legs tangled with his as she rested her body against his. The gentle weight of her head on his chest was welcome and the ottoman in front of him helped them both stretch out comfortably.

"You're safe, Rebecca," he murmured to her softly once she had settled down in his arms. "Go to sleep. No one will hurt you and I will be with you the whole time. I won't let anything bad happen to you, I promise."

Wrapping them both up in a blanket he'd grabbed from close by, Gatsby rested his chin on top of Rebecca's head. Despite the cramped position, he was comfortable. Closing his eyes, he soon joined her in peaceful, dreamless sleep with the peace of mind that soon, he'd have Ares Patrick in his hands to crush.

* * *

 **Saturday**

 **June 30, 1923**

Rebecca stood looking in the mirror. The light lilac colored dress was richly embroidered and Rebecca smiled as she sat letting Tilly do her hair. Pulling the long stands of blonde hair into an elegant style at the base of her neck, Rebecca let her fingers travel over the diamond comb she planned on wearing. A knock at the door came and Tilly quickly rushed to open it. Stepping into her rooms, Gatsby looked handsome. Wearing a black evening suit, he looked dashing as he walked towards her carrying a long, narrow box.

"Have Elizabeth and Nick arrived?" Rebecca asked him as she dabbed perfume to the insides of her wrists.

"I told Crawley to show them to the drawing room," Gatsby replied as he set a little box down on the vanity. "They should be here soon and before you worry, I checked with Mrs. Miller and Crawley. Everything is fine downstairs, so don't worry."

Rebecca couldn't help the small smile that came to her lips, "I don't worry."

Gatsby shook his head as he stepped aside to let Tilly finish her hair. Sitting down in the settee near her, Gatsby crossed his legs and took out his little notebook and pencil. Watching in the mirror as his lips moved as he scribbled, Rebecca was quickly beginning to find his little habit intriguing. He did it more often than she'd ever realized and she was curious to know what he was writing. Tilly made the last adjustments to her hair and Rebecca smiled at the young woman as she inspected the work.

"It's perfect, Tilly," she praised. "You can go until I call you."

Tilly nodded and quickly left the room as Rebecca reached for the snow white gloves that were laid out. Watching Gatsby in the reflection of the mirror, she watched him make one last note in his note book before slipping the little book into his breast pocket.

"Do you think you could get the wrist buttons?" she asked him as she pulled the glove up over her elbow.

Crouching down next to her, Gatsby delicately took her wrist and buttoned the three pearl buttons. Giving him her other wrist, Rebecca stared at the small box he'd left on her vanity.

"Don't forget your box when we go," she told him as she watched him button her wrist again. "Tilly might misplace it or something."

"The box is yours," Gatsby said softly, letting go of her wrist. "Why don't you open it?"

With a raised brow, Rebecca quickly undid the bow and popped the lid to the box open. Nestled inside was a beautiful diamond, sapphire, and pearl bracelet. Beautifully designed with silver, the bracelet was one of the most intricate things Rebecca was sure she'd ever seen. Taking it out of the box, she held the bracelet in her hands and let her fingertips trace the diamonds and pearls lightly.

"Do you like it?" Gatsby asked her looking almost nervous. "If you don't, I can take it back and you can decide what you like best. I know you liked rubies and we both know that you are far better at picking jewelry than I am."

"It's perfect," she smiled as she looked at him. "Can you do the clasp?"

Offering him her wrist again, Rebecca watched as Gatsby undid the bracelet's clasp and attached it around her wrist. The diamonds sparkled in the light and pearls only added to the magnificence of the gift. It truly was a beautiful bracelet and without thinking, Rebecca pressed a soft kiss to Gatsby's cheek. Her lips only lingered for a few seconds, but she could feel the smoothness of his freshly shaven face. Her lips tingled and her whole body felt like it could come alive at that moment. Her eyes met his and she stared into his crystal blue orbs for only a minute before she cleared her throat and stood.

"We'll be late if we don't leave now," she murmured as she quickly looked around for her perfume. Applying a dab to each side of her neck, Rebecca nearly dropped the bottle of perfume when Gatsby gently touched the inside of her elbow. He took the bottle of perfume and set it down on the vanity before he cupped her neck. His lips descended softly down onto hers and every fiber in her being came alive. Gatsby's lips were just as soft as she remembered them being on her wedding day. His arm lopped around her waist and pulled her close to his body. Nothing disturbed her thoughts in that moment. All she could think about was Gatsby and tingling sensation he brought pulsing through her body. With just a kiss, he made her feel more alive than Matthew ever did.

When oxygen became a need, Gatsby pulled away. They were both breathing heavily and just as Rebecca was about to pull him back to her for another kiss, a knock came from the door. Quickly stepping away from him, Rebecca stared at herself in the mirror and righted any part of her appearance that looked disheveled. Gatsby left the dressing room and crossed the sitting room. Opening the double doors, Rebecca could see Crawley on the other side. Walking to the sitting room, she caught the tail end of the conversation.

"What did Crawley want?" she asked as Gatsby closed the doors and looked at her. He smoothed his hair back down and adjusted his vest before clearing his throat.

"Nick, Elizabeth, and your parents are here," Gatsby replied quietly as he held his hand out to her. "Shall we?"

* * *

Rebecca had truly outdone herself, Gatsby reflected with a smile as he sat at one of the many tables that were set up outside. Everything glittered and gleamed like he knew it would. In every essence of the word, Rebecca had outdone herself. The house looked stunning and everything about it was perfect from the decorations to the food to the drinks being served. Word had somehow gotten out about the Gatsby's throwing a party and men had to be placed at the gate to make sure only those with invitations were admitted.

Watching Rebecca dance with Nick, Gatsby was taken back to the very night everything had come undone. He'd barely paid any attention to her that night and with a sip of Champagne, Gatsby stood up as Nick escorted Rebecca back to the table with every intention of rectifying his biggest mistakes.

"Enjoying yourself, old sport?" Gatsby asked with a smile as he tucked Rebecca's hand into the crook of his elbow.

"Absolutely!" Nick smiled back. "Everything is far more beautiful than I ever imagined. You've truly out done yourself, Mrs. Gatsby!"

Rebecca laughed at Nick's words, "Thank you, I wasn't trying, but thank you none the less."

"I had best return to Elizabeth," Nick continued. "I'll see you again before the evening is done."

Gatsby nodded and watched as Nick slipped away into the crowd to find his own wife again. Turning to Rebecca with a smile, Gatsby nodded at the dance floor.

"Shall we?" he asked and Rebecca smiled. They'd only managed to walk a few feet when an old friend of Gatsby's bumped into them. Tall with flaming red hair that didn't quite lay flat, Rebecca was curious about the man before he even said a word. Dressed well, it was obvious that the man was well to do and his smile made her think that the man loved to laugh.

"Henry Martin!" Gatsby exclaimed with a smile. "It's good to see you, old sport."

"You as well, old chap," Mr. Martin replied. "Who's this enchanting creature with you?"

Blushing a little, Rebecca smiled as Gatsby turned to her.

"I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Henry Martin," Gatsby told her with a smile. "Mr. Martin, this is my wife, Rebecca Gatsby."

"It's a pleasure to finally put a name with a beautiful face," Mr. Martin said. "You're husband speaks highly of you."

"Does he now?" Rebecca asked with a teasing smile as she looked from one man to the other. "How exactly do you know Mr. Martin?"

"I designed these gardens and the house," Mr. Martin supplied. "Your husband has always been a wonderful client of mine and I enjoy working with him."

"The gardens are my favorite part of the house," Rebecca smiled brightly. "The house is lovely too, but I love the gardens more than anything else. I think they are perfect."

"My lovely wife is quite fond of getting lost in them," Gatsby chuckled as he affectionately squeezed her hand, "She'll spend hours and hours in them and I can never find her. I doubt she'd ever leave them if she had a choice."

"I can only imagine! Mrs. Gatsby, I never thought I'd met the woman all this was designed for!" Mr. Martin said enthusiastically. "It was truly a pleasure hearing Mr. Gatsby describe how he wanted everything perfect for you. I'm pleased I was able to be such a great help to him."

At the mention of the house and gardens being designed, Rebecca felt her whole body stiffen. She knew exactly who Mr. Martin was talking about and it made her want to scream in frustration. Just like her sister, Daisy was a constant ghost of the past that never seemed to stay where she belonged…in the past. Rebecca didn't hear what Gatsby said to Mr. Martin, but she let him guide her down to the dance floor. Knowing that she had to say something, Rebecca cleared her throat.

"He seemed very nice," she commented as Gatsby took her hand in his.

Neither of them said anything as a cold, uncomfortable silence descended upon them. The haunting truth that everything had been designed for Daisy left Rebecca feeling dissatisfied in some ways. While she lived at Gatsby Manor, the knowledge that everything had been designed for Daisy left her feeling like the manor was never really her home. It was just a house that she stayed in that provided a bed and warm meals. There were many things she tried to ignore or hide and that truth was one of those things. Gatsby broke the silence as took they the steps required of them in the Waltz.

"I'm sorrier than you'll ever know," he murmured softly to her. "I'm a very selfish man. I imagine that you already know that. I want everything for myself and I don't care who I hurt sometimes. In being that selfish man, I've hurt you many times and I'm so sorry."

"You're not as selfish as you describe. I don't believe that," Rebecca answered as Gatsby rested his hand on her lower back. "You wouldn't be here if you were so unreasonably selfish. You're here for Nick and to help your friend. That's not selfish, Jay."

With a shake of his head, Gatsby brought her gloved hand to his lips and kissed it, "You're far too good for me."

Swaying softly with the music that band played, Rebecca turned and looked at Nick and Elizabeth.

"They look very happy," she murmured. "I don't think I've seen my sister smile so much."

"I'd be smiling too if I were her. She completely avoided any scandal and she's married," Gatsby drawled. "She has secured everything she wants in life and has a child on the way. I'd be surprised if she was frowning."

Rebecca broke her gazing and turned back to look at him, "We'll have a new neighbor...eventually. Nick will be moving to Harper House and living with my parents and Elizabeth. Has it already been a year since Nick moved in? Where has the time gone?"

"I don't know," he told her. "However, I do know that at my age, time speeds up."

Rebecca couldn't help but to laugh, "You're only thirty-three! You're not old!"

"I'm not twenty-three anymore, either."

"When you compare your age to mine, you do seem rather old."

One of Gatsby's rare smiles graced his lips, "I thought you just told me I was young."

Before Rebecca could say anything an obviously drunk man stumbled and fell into her. Gatsby managed to catch her before she fell completely to the ground, but the bracelet around her wrist broke off at the clasp. Two of Gatsby's security detail appeared and quickly escorted the drunken man out as Rebecca stared down helplessly at the bracelet. Picking it up, she allowed Gatsby's men to part the crowd for them.

"The clasp broke," she told him with a frown as she looked at the beautiful bracelet Gatsby had given her just a few hours ago.

"I'll put it in my pocket," Gatsby told her as he pulled out a chair for her to sit in as she inspected the broken clasp.

"No, it might get lost or someone might try and take it out of your pocket. I'll just go upstairs and put it in my safe for the night. In the morning, we can just send it off to the jewelers to be fixed. Besides, I have to go upstairs anyways, my shoe strap broke."

Gatsby glanced down as Rebecca lifted her evening gown a few inches to show him her ruined shoe.

"Is it even possible to walk in that?" he asked.

Sliding her foot out of the tiny heeled shoe, Rebecca watched as Gatsby waved a maid over. The woman quickly undid the other strap on the unbroken shoe.

"I'll be fine going upstairs," Rebecca assured him as she stood up. Looking down at her dress, everything appeared to be in order as she smoothed her hands over the bodice. Holding out a gloved hand, Gatsby placed the bracelet into her palm with a hesitant look on his face.

"I'll be back before you know it and you owe me another dance where I'm not trampled by a drunken man."

Her words extracted a small smile from Gatsby as he stood up too, "I promise. Now, go and hurry back."

She walked away from the table and quickly walked up the left side of the twin staircases in the gardens and disappeared into the house.

* * *

Rebecca opened the door to her rooms and frowned in frustration as the bracelet's hook broke. The bracelet had kept coming undone all night and rather than letting Gatsby put the thing in his pocket, Rebecca wanted to put it away in the safe until it could be fixed. She didn't want to lose such a beautiful gift from him. Rebecca hadn't asked him how much the bracelet was worth, but seeing the way people's eyes grew wide and the way the exclaimed over it, she knew it was worth quite a lot of money.

Closing the sitting room door behind her, Rebecca held the diamond and sapphire bracelet in her hand as she called for Tilly. Crawley had promised that the maid was waiting for her and with a frown, Rebecca walked quickly to the bedroom. Rarely was Tilly ever late or missing and it wasn't in Crawley's nature to lie about anything. Staring at the bed that had already been turned down for later, Rebecca moved out of the bedroom and dropped the bracelet down onto the circular dark wood table that contained the beautiful vase of flowers. Hearing a creak from the dressing room, Rebecca turned on her heel and walked to the room with the full intention of reprimanding Tilly for not coming when she was called.

Pushing open the door, Rebecca felt all the air her body escape her. Lying against the wall opposite her was Tilly. The young woman's black dress and white apron were stained red with blood. Next to her, a small Egyptian statue of the god Ra stood, broken and covered in blood. A scream formed in Rebecca's throat, but it never reached her lips. Two arms came around her and one hand covered her mouth. A gun was pressed into her side and terror unlike anything Rebecca had ever experienced welded up inside her.

"Hello, my little dove."

A sicken sound of Ares Patrick's voice made Rebecca feel weak in the knees as desperately tried to think of anything she could do to get away from him.

"Don't talk," Ares purred into her ear. "I'll remove my hand if you promise not to scream. One scream from you and I won't hesitate to put a bullet in your body. Am I clear?"

Realizing that she had no choice, Rebecca nodded tearfully. Ares let her go and she felt so dirty. Watching him walk to the beautiful Vestier painting of the lady with the book and the navy blue sash, Rebecca held her breath when Ares yanked the painting away from the wall. With ease, the painting swung back and the safe behind it was revealed.

"The combination," Ares said as he turned and pointed the gun at her. "What is the combination to get it?"

"Why are you doing this?" Rebecca whispered as her hands trembled violently. "Please, I gave you want you w-w-wanted."

Ares barked a harsh laugh and walked towards her. Grabbing her upper arm, he dragged her to stand in front of the safe and pointed the gun at her again.

"The combination, Mrs. Gatsby," he said in a smooth, dangerous voice. "Open the safe and I won't blow your head off. Open the safe and you won't end up like your poor, stupid little maid who tried to stop me."

Before Rebecca could say anything, the sound of another person in her rooms caused both of them to pause. A young maid walked into the dressing room. Before she could scream, Ares turned and without even blinking, fired the gun. Rebecca covered her ears and watched in horror as the young maid fell to floor, dead. Blood ran freely from the wound to her head. She covered her mouth to prevent the scream that threatened to escape her as she stared down at the lifeless figure of Sarah.

"The safe," Ares said as he turned the gun back towards her. "Open the safe, Mrs. Gatsby."

Violently shaking, Rebecca did all she could to steady her hands as she walked to the safe. It took her a few tries, but on the fourth try, she managed to open it. The door swung open and all her jewelry as well as other valuable items lay inside. A sickening smile crossed Ares face as he looked at her.

"You are divine, my love," he murmured to her. "Go, stand by the chair."

Quickly crossing the room, Rebecca stood and watched in silent horror as Ares emptied all the jewelry that had been in the safe into his pockets.

* * *

Gatsby frowned as he looked at the clock.

Rebecca had been gone for almost half an hour. Their guests were wining and dining. They were drinking and stuffing themselves with all the wonderful food the cooks had prepared for the party. No one had noticed that Rebecca hadn't come back from the party. Nick and Elizabeth were finishing a second set of dancing while Edward drank his way through the bar and Katherine flirted with significantly younger men.

Looking at Wolfsheim and the young woman that had come along, Gatsby excused himself and stood up from the table. The party was perfect and there was no denying that Rebecca had outdone herself, but Gatsby felt bored and he knew why. Rebecca wasn't with him and she was what made the party enjoyable to him. Quickly making his way to the grand staircase and climbing, Gatsby stopped halfway up when he heard Nick call his name.

"Enjoying the party, old sport?" Gatsby asked with a smile as Nick climbed up the steps to meet him.

"It's spectacular," Nick returned with a brilliant grin. "Elizabeth is beyond thrilled to see everyone here and I don't think she's stopped smiling since we arrived."

"I'm glad."

"So am I," Nick continued. "None of this would be possible without you and Rebecca's help. I am incredibly thrilled that I get to call you 'brother' now."

Gatsby couldn't help the laughter that escaped him, "Indeed, old sport! It seems we are now indeed brothers. As your brother, I must command you go back to the party and enjoy yourself."

"And you?" Nick asked with a raised brow. "Where are you going? If Rebecca finds out you've abandoned her party there will be hell to pay, Jay."

"I'm off to go get here and bring her back to the party," Gatsby replied as he clasped Nick on the shoulder. "The bracelet I gave Rebecca, regrettably, has a broken clasp. She's afraid of losing it and went to go put it in her safe. She and Tilly probably have both forgotten the combination and are trying to open the damn thing. I'll just lock the bracelet in my own safe and tomorrow, I'll find the missing combination. We'll be back at the party in ten minutes, Nick. Go and enjoy yourself, old sport."

With one last smile, Nick nodded and quickly descended down the steps to where a footman was waiting for him and offered a glass of champagne. Shaking his head and turning, Gatsby climbed the rest of the way up the stairs and nodded at the young footman who was guarding the corridor so that guests couldn't enter the private areas of the house. Turning down the hall and going quickly to Rebecca's door, Gatsby opened the door without hesitation and stepped into the elegant sitting room. Nothing was out of place and the room was dimly lit by a single lamp in the corner.

"Rebecca?" he called as he checked the bedroom. "Did you forget about our party?"

* * *

Rebecca felt the air leave her lungs as she stood away from the opened safe and heard Gatsby calling her. Knowing Ares, she knew that he would most likely shoot Gatsby on sight. The gun was continually pointed at her as Ares raised a finger to his lips. Getting his message, Rebecca nodded as she tried to choke back tears. It was all too much and she hoped to God that she wouldn't see Gatsby shot to death in front of her. She couldn't the thought. Not daring to say a word, fearing that Ares would shoot Gatsby, Rebecca barely registered the tears that fell down her cheeks as Gatsby called her name again. She could hear each step as he got closer and closer to the dressing room. In her mind, she was screaming at him to turn away. Ares would hurt him and she couldn't bear to know it was because of her. Gatsby walked right into the dressing room and paused. His eyes grew wide seeing the gun that Ares pointed at her. Too frightened to move, Rebecca felt a sob escape her throat as she looked at him.

"I see you finally decided to join the party," Ares smiled as Gatsby slowly walked towards her. Rebecca trembled as Gatsby stepped in front of her and she tightly held onto his hand and wrist with both hands. He gently squeezed her hand as if he was telling her it would be alright. She desperately wanted to believe that everything would be alright, but a haunting feeling inside her pointed to a different ending.

"Just put the gun down Ares," Gatsby said quietly as he shielded her. "You can have the jewels, just put the gun down. I know you need the money. So please, just take the jewels and go."

"I lower this gun and you'll probably draw out your own and kill me," Ares Patrick yelled, sounding slightly hysterical. "I know you will! That's just the kind of sick, son of a bitch that you are!"

"Take the jewelry," Gatsby told Ares again calmly. "Take the jewelry and leave. We won't do anything, just go. If this is what you feel you need to do than just do it."

Clutching the back of Gatsby's black dinner jacket, Rebecca tried to stop her shaking, but she couldn't. The lifeless bodies of the two maids on the floor and her rapist waving a gun around like a raging lunatic only served to add to her distress and she could feel the fear that pulsed through her veins.

"You're wife was pretty thing," Ares said angrily as his hand holding the gun shook violently. "There was just something about her. I don't know how you've resisted her all these years, if the rumors are true. She's not a virgin. I'll tell you that. She doesn't scream like a virgin does when you push into them for the first time."

"Take the jewels and go," Gatsby replied again as he raised his arms up a little in surrender. "If you think taking Rebecca's diamonds will change the future of your business and will help you, by all means, take the jewelry and leave. We won't stop you and we'll just replace the diamonds later. They're yours to keeps, Ares. Just put the gun down."

"You're being condescending," the man snarled as he pulled back the hammer on the gun and cocked it. "You, the great Jay Gatsby, one of the richest men in New York, can buy whatever the hell you feel like. What are a few diamonds to you anyways? Are we all replaceable to you like diamonds? Is your wife replaceable like diamonds?"

The door creaked open and all three of them turned to see Wolfsheim pointing his own gun at Ares.

"Put the gun down, Ares. Stop this madness," Wolfsheim tried to reason as he slowly walked into the room. "Jay already said he'd let you go if you just put the gun down and leave. Nobody has to get hurt."

The gun in Ares' hands shook violently as he continued to point it between Wolfsheim and Gatsby. The smell of blood mingled with gun powder permeated the air and left Rebecca feeling sick as her eyes nervously darted between the three men.

"I can't do what you're asking me to do," Ares said through clenched teeth.

In the next moment, the sound of two guns going off at nearly the exact same time echoed off the walls of her dressing room. Ares fell back against the safe and slammed his head on the thick, metal door with a sickening thud. The gun fell from his hand as the snow white dress shirt he wore began to turn ruby red. Stepping out from behind Gatsby, Rebecca looked at the sight of the three bodies lying on the ground. No words escaped her lips as she covered her mouth and tried to hold back the scream that threatened to escape as she stared into unconscious form of Ares Patrick.

He wasn't dead, but the bullet had hit him in the shoulder.

"I'll call my men to clean this mess up," Wolfsheim said quietly after a moment as he tucked his gun back into his holster under his dinner jacket.

"And a surgeon," Gatsby added quietly.

Rebecca turned around so quickly that she almost tripped over the skirt of her dress. Horror spread through her chest as she stared at Gatsby. He leaned into the chair that was next to him as he tried to grasp the back of it and support himself. Despite the hand that applied pressure to the wound in his lower abdomen, blood was quickly seeping from his body at an alarming rate. Wolfsheim was at Gatsby's side as he began to collapse. Watching Wolfsheim help her husband to the floor, Rebecca could barely keep her hands steady as she tried to grab as many handkerchiefs as she could out of the top drawer of her vanity. Rushing to Gatsby's side, her heart clenched painful in her chest as looked down at his pale face. Wolfsheim yanked the handkerchiefs out of her hands and began applying pressure to the wound as it bleed profusely.

The staff of the house must have heard the gun shots because Mr. Crawley, the aging butler, came bursting in the room not more than a few minutes later with a speed Rebecca had never seen him use. She barely heard what orders Wolfsheim gave. It didn't matter that Gatsby's blood was smeared over her dark purple dress and the snow white gloves she wore looked like a bottle of red wine had been spilt over the silky material.

"You shouldn't have done that," Rebecca told him in a shaky voice. "You should have moved out of his way."

"And let him shoot you?" Gatsby replied hoarsely with a slight smile. "Never."

His hand was barely able to reach her, but he gently brushed a wisp of fallen hair behind her ear.

"I'm just glad that the last thing I'm able to see is you," he continued so softly Rebecca nearly missed his words. "You look like a beautiful angel and the only thing that's missing is your smile."

His voice was rough and a harsh cough ripped through his chest from the effort of speaking.

"Don't say that," she whispered to him quickly. "Don't you dare say that. You're going to live. I'm going to save you. I refuse to let this be goodbye."

Gatsby blinked for a few seconds before he closed his eyes.

"Jay! Jay!" she cried as she grasped the hand that had swept away her curl tightly. "Wake up! Say something! Please! Jay!"

From behind, someone grabbed her and yanked her away from Gatsby as two men entered the room and rushed to his side. Rebecca couldn't see what they were doing, but didn't matter. All she wanted was Gatsby to open his soft, blue eyes and look at her again. She wanted to his rare smile and the crinkle in the corner of his eyes when he laughed.

"Help him! Do something!" she sobbed as one of the men shook their head sadly. She barely felt her tears running down her face as she struggled against the strong arms that were holding her back, "Get off me! Jay? Jay!"


	16. XV: Heavy In Your Arms

**Part XV: Heavy in Your Arms**

 _"...I'm so heavy, heavy_  
 _Heavy in your arms_  
 _I'm so heavy, heavy_  
 _Heavy in your arms_

 _And is it worth the wait_  
 _All this killing time?_  
 _Are you strong enough to stand_  
 _Protecting both your heart and mine?_

 _Who is the betrayer?_  
 _Who's the killer in the crowd?_  
 _The one who creeps in corridors_  
 _And doesn't make a sound_

 _My love has concrete feet_  
 _My love's an iron ball_  
 _Wrapped around your ankles_  
 _Over the waterfall..."_

"Heavy In Your Arms" - Florence + the Machine

 **Sunday**

 **July 1, 1923**

Pacing the hallway outside Gatsby's bedroom door, Rebecca waited anxiously with Wolfsheim. The party had long since ended and the staff had taken care of the guests, but Rebecca couldn't bring herself to come away from the door. Her parents, Nick, Elizabeth…they had all left the party in ignorance of what had transpired in her dressing room. Mr. and Mrs. Carraway were probably already on their way to Gatsby's countryside estate in Westchester County. The beaming groom and blushing bride were far happier without the knowledge of Ares' attempted murder.

For the past few hours, silence had been the only thing keeping her and Wolfsheim company in the lonely house as servants below worked quickly to straighten the house under both Mr. Crawley and her housekeeper's watchful eyes. Wolfsheim's surgeon was with her husband and Rebecca could only silently pray that Gatsby lived. She wasn't ready to become a widow. At twenty-three, she wanted to live life and take in the breath of fresh air that Gatsby had given her in the past few days. There were things she wanted to tell him and if he died, Rebecca knew she'd spend the rest of life regretting the words she never spoke to him.

Just as she was about to take another turn in the hall, Wolfsheim grabbed her elbow gently and looked at her with worried eyes. The same tiredness she felt in her bones was visible in his eyes and he frowned slightly. She knew that even though she'd changed clothing and had washed Gatsby's blood away, she was still a mess.

"Sit down, darling," Meyer pleaded with her softly. "You're going to exhaust yourself and become ill. Jay wouldn't want you to do that."

Looking at Wolfsheim, Rebecca barely felt herself being guided to a chair that seemed to appear out of nowhere. A tray of tea also arrived without her knowledge and she accepted the warm cup that Wolfsheim pressed into her hands. His words about Gatsby not wanting her to make herself ill rang true, somehow. With the way Jay had been acting for weeks, Rebecca could easily imagine the uproar he'd cause if he could see how tired and strained she felt and looked.

"What if he doesn't make it?" she whispered brokenly, looking up at Wolfsheim. "What if he...dies?"

"Don't think like that," he whispered back to her. "Jay is strong. He'll pull through, I know it."

"What if he doesn't? What if he…"

"If he dies, you will be taken care of Rebecca. Jay made provisions in his will. I saw the document weeks ago when he had it drawn up again and changed. In the event that he dies before you do, Jay made sure that all his income and fortune goes to you and any children you share with him. Besides, you know that I would never leave you destitute in the streets. I would never allow that to happen," Wolfsheim told her firmly as he took one of her hands in his and rubbed his thumb over the back of her chilled hand. "You will never have to fear poverty. I won't let that happen. You have my promise."

"I don't fear poverty," she said brokenly. "All I want is—"

The door to Gatsby's room opened without warning and the doctor Wolfsheim had summoned stepped out into the hall. Had it not been for the maid standing nearby and quickly claiming the tea cup in her hands, Rebecca was sure the cup would have shattered on the ground as she stood up quickly and looked at the man anxiously.

"How is he?" she nearly begged the doctor as Wolfsheim's hands steadied her on her feet. "Please, tell me, is he alright?"

"Come with me," the older doctor slipped his glasses off and rubbed his brow as he turned back to Gatsby's door. Quickly fallowing the man, Rebecca barely took in her surroundings as she stepped into the one room in the house she'd always dared not to enter. In the back of her mind, she registered that the entire room had changed since the night of her disastrous proposition to Gatsby of the consummate their marriage. The furniture had been changed as well as many other things including the window treatments and rugs. There was one thing that hadn't changed and it was the large four poster against the wall opposite the French doors leading to a balcony and the two small nightstands on either side it.

All her thoughts slipped away as she easily spotted Gatsby lying on the large bed with a pillow beneath his head and sheets tucked around his waist. Gatsby looked so weak and frail in the sheets that Rebecca could almost believe that the bed would grow a mouth and swallow him whole. Rushing to Gatsby's side, Rebecca perched down next to him and covered her mouth with her hand as she looked over his still form. His skin was pale and a sweat covered his body as his bare chest rose and fell with each shallow breath he took. A large bandage covered his side and the crisp white sheets he was laying in were obviously newly applied. The sheets and blanket covered him until just above his navel. In the back recess of her mind, Rebecca registered that it was the first time she'd ever seen Gatsby without clothing on. Just as quickly as the thought came, it floated away as a nurse walked past her carrying a wooden basket. Rebecca could easily see the dark red stains against the crisp white sheets and she felt any hope that had been barely living inside her heart drain away. There was so much blood that she felt faint as the woman walked towards the valet door in the other room. Wolfsheim grabbed hold of her arm to prevent her from falling from the bed as she turned to look back at Gatsby. He must have seen the sheets because he turned her body away from the nurse and held onto her shoulders loosely.

"Will he be alright?" she asked the surgeon in a shaky voice as she reached for Gatsby's hand. Rough and yet somewhat smooth, she traced each of his knuckles with her shaking fingertips.

"I can't say anything for sure," Doctor Weston murmured. "A fever has already set in and I've done everything I can to minimize the chances of infection. If he makes it through tonight and pulls through tomorrow, Mr. Gatsby might very well live. Beyond that, however, I can't make an accurate predictions about the future, ma'am. I've done everything I could do. Now, we must wait."

A sob formed in her throat, but Rebecca swallowed it back. She refused to cry in front of anyone especially this new, unknown surgeon that she was placing so much blind faith in. The sounds of Wolfsheim and Weston's voices faded from her hearing as Rebecca looked down at her nearly lifeless husband. There had once been a time in her life where she had silently prayed Gatsby would meet a tragic end. She'd never meant it and now, Rebecca couldn't help the feeling that maybe she'd caused his accident.

If she'd never thought about Jay getting hurt, none of the events that had landed them in their current situation would have happened. Swallowing back her tears again, Rebecca shook her head. It was impossible that her thoughts had caused what had happened. Thoughts weren't actions and she wasn't responsible. She hadn't been the one to pull the trigger and shoot Gatsby. Ares Patrick had pulled the trigger and she had no idea what had become of the man. Wolfsheim's men had dragged the Southern bastard off. Her imagination could only conjure up what had happened and nothing she conjured up was pleasant. Her train of thought was broken by a squeeze on her shoulder. Looking up, Rebecca's eyes met Wolfsheim's and he gave her a sad smile.

"Doctor Weston and I are going to step outside," Wolfsheim said softly. "I'll be back. Is there anything you need?"

Shaking her head and turning back to Gatsby, Rebecca let a tear escape and fall down her cheek as she listened to Wolfsheim and the doctor leave the room. Watching the man she'd always loved, Rebecca couldn't hold back the silent tears as they fell.

She'd spent days and months convincing herself that she'd never loved Gatsby. Over and over again in her mind, she'd told herself that she'd never been in love with Gatsby. Everything had been an illusion and she didn't care for him. In Matthew, Rebecca had found reprieve from the storm and for months, she'd told herself that Matthew could show her true love. He could show her a love that Gatsby could not and never would show her. At the time, her mind had succeeded in beating her heart. The lies she'd told herself had eased the pain and suffering. It had made life bearable and filled her life with some joy. However, at the end of the day, the things she'd told herself had been exactly what they were all along.

Lies.

Watching Jay struggle, even for one breath, made her see the truth. She'd loved Jay Gatsby all along and in a single second, Rebecca felt all the walls she'd been building up tumble away. Running her fingers gently through Gatsby's hair, Rebecca couldn't help the sob that nearly escaped her. The Jay Gatsby that she'd fallen in love with had slowly been coming back to her and she wasn't prepared to lose him, not when the powers above had given them both a second chance.

* * *

 **Thursday**

 **July 5, 1923**

Twisting the cloth filled with cool water, Rebecca gently dabbed the cloth against Gatsby's forehead. Alone with Gatsby, Rebecca dimmed the lamp next to the bed before soaking the cloth back in the cool water. Twisting the cloth again, she gently ran the cloth from his shoulder to his wrist. Any other time, Rebecca was sure she would have been fascinated by just the touch of Gatsby's skin. There was a birth mark just below his collar bone that she'd never seen before and a part of her ached to someday discover more of him. It was impossible to deny that she desire Gatsby because she'd always desperately desire him. A flame of passion had long since been ignited in her and even thought Ares had tried, he hadn't smothered the flames that burned beneath the surface.

Despite her desire, Rebecca knew that any chance of ever experiencing those desires was dwindling. It had been three days and there was no change in Gatsby's condition. He was still feverish and Rebecca was losing hope as each minute ticked by. She wanted to be hopeful, but it was hard to feel hopeful when those closest to her always left. Matthew's soft voice drifted in her head telling her to have a faith. As quick as the thought had come, Rebecca pushed it out of her mind. Matthew was the last person she wanted to think of in that moment. Just thinking about the man as she sat at her feverish husband's bedside felt wrong.

The whole situation felt wrong.

Putting the cloth down into the water bowl and standing, a sickening feeling began in Rebecca's stomach as she walked over to the opened French glass doors that led to Gatsby's balcony and the gardens below. A soft breeze came off the bay as she stared out the glittering blue water under the night sky. The outside was so joyous and peaceful that it seemed to be a tortuous irony that the last few days had been so lovely. Without a doubt in her mind, Rebecca knew that Jay would have gone driving. He would have taken his custom yellow car out on the Fourth of July and he probably would have taken her like he had been playfully threatening to do. His car had always made her nervous, but Rebecca couldn't help herself as she wondered if Gatsby would have made good on his threat to take her with him. The thought of driving in the countryside with Gatsby brought a sad smile to her face because she was sure that she would have liked it. He could tease her and push her, but Rebecca knew Gatsby wouldn't force into doing anything she didn't want to do.

Turning back and looking at Gatsby, Rebecca felt the familiar butterflies come alive in her stomach. She'd only truly admitted to herself that she'd loved him and once she'd let the love she felt for him come alive inside her, no part of her was spared. She could feel her love for him engulf every part of her to the point where Rebecca was both amazed and petrified of the feeling. It amazed her that she could ever feel so deeply for anyone, but it also scared her more than anything because she was afraid that Gatsby wouldn't feel the same way she felt. For the past few days, her mind and heart had been engaged in a fierce battle of wills as she pondered the truth about Gatsby's own feelings towards her.

Could he love her in anyway?

Walking back to his bedside and sinking down onto the edge next to him, Rebecca clutched Gatsby's hand in hers. He'd stepped in front of her and took a bullet without a second thought. It didn't matter to him that Ares had been pointing a gun at her, Jay had stepped in front of her. He'd done it with no reservations and Rebecca desperately wanted him to open his eyes. She wanted to look in his eyes and know that he was alright. Brushing her thumb over his knuckles, Rebecca couldn't help, but smile bitterly.

God seemed to be so cruel. She hadn't always believed that God had been cruel, but she wasn't left with any other belief. How could love ever be true and unconditional like Matthew had once told her it could be? It would be her fate that Gatsby didn't love her like she loved him. All the men in her life always made grand gestures, but rarely was there ever true love or any kind of emotion behind the gesture besides greed and desire.

Rebecca could remember the first time she'd ever seen 'love' at work. At barely eleven, she'd been a young girl the first time she'd caught her father having an affair. Stuck in the transition between being a girl and a young woman, she hadn't been sure what had happened that night, but she knew that it had been the first night she'd seen what happened between adults. The summer had been hot and the air had been so damp. She'd only snuck out of bed to go walking and stopped when she'd heard giggling. The nanny had put all three of the children to bed early because of her parents' annual summer ball. Together with Mary, Rebecca had watched the women arrive from the window in the nursery before being put to bed. Hours later, she'd snuck out and had stumbled upon her father and another woman in his study kissing passionately. From the darkened hallway, Rebecca had watched her father touch the woman and murmur to her over and over again how he _loved_ her.

She'd heard her mother and father murmur to her and her sisters that they loved them, but it had been the first time Rebecca had ever heard it from her father to another woman. Before she could see or hear anything else that night, her nanny had grabbed her harshly and Rebecca had received the beating of her life. She'd barely been able to sit for the next few days afterwards. Fear of her own father knowing she'd been watching him had kept Rebecca silent about Nanny Sarah's abuse. From that night on, Rebecca was sure she'd become a woman. Childhood had been left behind that night and she could never forget what she'd witnessed. The image of her father with another woman besides her mother had haunted her for many nights and even though she cared for Edward Harper, Rebecca questioned if she'd ever truly loved the man. She questioned if anyone in her family had ever truly understood what it meant to love another person.

Her father loved whatever brand of women was his fancy for the week and her mother loved whatever material possession gave her the comfort and emotional care that she needed in the moment. Never in all her years had she ever heard her father or mother tell each other that they felt anything akin to love for each other. Years had passed after that fateful night and Rebecca had watched as her family had continued to 'love' their comforts.

While he doted on his daughters, Edward Harper also incited fury and fear. His temper was violent, fierce and Rebecca had lived in fear of ever feeling its wrath. She'd only seen her father's temper in person once and it had been the night he'd thrown Mary out of Harper House. All Rebecca had wanted to do was to scream that Edward and Katherine were nothing but hypocrites, but fear had kept her silent. How could they turn their backs so quickly on the little girl they had once claimed to love?

The fear of her mother's harsh words and her father's temper had stopped her from calling them both out for their faults that night. Fear was the only thing Rebecca was sure she'd known growing up with Edward and Katherine. Yes, there had been brief moments of happiness in her childhood, but most of it was clouded by fear and never had she felt the feeling of love from either parent. Love wasn't something Edward and Katherine Harper ever made her feel. It was a word they said, but she'd never experienced from them.

In many ways, Rebecca both hated and envied Mary. Mary hadn't let fear control her. She'd lived her life how she'd wanted and even though her life had been short and tragic, Mary had lived far better than she had. Looking over her shoulder, Rebecca stared out at the blinking green light in the distance. The light gave the room an eerie glow that reminded Rebecca of Mary. Mary's eyes had been a greenish color and Rebecca couldn't help but wonder about Thomas.

Was Mary's son happy?

Was he as sweet and charming as Mary had been as a baby?

Or did Thomas take after Tom Buchanan?

Gripping the bed sheets at the mere idea of Buchanan, Rebecca felt a chill pass through her body. Tom Buchanan, Ares Patrick, and her father were the worst sort of men. They lied, used, and abused to get what they wanted. In their own minds, they were Gods and nothing would ever stop them. There was nothing that was unachievable to them. They used up good people until there was nothing left of that person and then they moved on to their next unsuspecting victim.

Buchanan had practically sucked the will to live out of Mary and Rebecca knew that no matter what, no punishment was good enough for him. To her, it was as if Tom pulled the figurative gun himself that killed Mary. She blamed him and nothing would change her belief in his guilt. She also blamed Edward Harper for Mary's death. Weren't fathers supposed to protect their children? Love them? Encourage them? Keep them safe? Edward hadn't done that at all. There was nothing in his actions that ever suggested he'd loved Mary.

In reality, Mary's life had shown Rebecca the truth about the men around her and she wondered if that was the deep root of her fears. Mary had unintentionally showed her how men used women for their own means and it scared her. Rebecca's own experience had also shown her that same truth about the men in her life. What Ares had done to her hadn't ever been about love. An act that Matthew had once shown her to be about nothing but love and respect had been twisted around into her worst living nightmare. Nothing she ever did would erase the horrible nightmare that Ares had brought to life in a few short hours. He'd left her broken and damaged while he moved on. He told her over and over again how he'd loved her during the time he'd been with her. Just hearing the word from his lips had left a pit in her stomach. Nothing about what Ares had done had been out of love. Rebecca doubted that Ares even knew what love was.

The Edward Harper, Tom Buchanan and Ares Patrick's of the world abused the word 'love'. They knew nothing about the word or the emotion. In her mind, they were incapable of feeling the emotion. How could a man like Tom Buchanan claim to love a woman after the way he'd treated another person? How could he claim to anyone that he 'loved' his daughter after turning his back on his own son? Love was an overused term that meant nothing anymore to anyone. The definition was gone and it was simply now an adjective to describe self-seeking and self-satisfaction in the highest degree.

While the world seemed cold, Rebecca also knew that it wasn't completely full of men like Buchanan, Harper and Patrick. Out in the far corners of the world, spread far and few, were men like Matthew. There were men who cared and understood that love wasn't a way to manipulate and abuse people for their own greed and satisfaction. Matthew had shown her the light in the darkness and she would forever be grateful to him because he brought the firm belief in her heart that Gatsby wasn't like the Tom Buchanan's of the world. If anything, Matthew had somehow proven to her that Gatsby was simply lost and misguided into believing himself in love with a woman who made Ares Patrick look like a tamed, lovable kitten.

In short, love was a dangerous game that Rebecca wasn't sure she wanted to play, but knew she needed to engage in. Closing her eyes and turning back to look at Gatsby, she fought back the tears that seemed to be forever present in her eyes.

Could Gatsby love her in anyway?

Could he love a damaged, broken woman like her?

A small voice in the back of her head answered that Gatsby had already proved that he loved by one simple action. He'd stepped in front of her the moment he'd stepped in the room and had seen Ares waving his gun around like a crazed mad man. Jay had to have known that Ares would have fired that gun. A man as crazed as Ares Patrick didn't make threats that he had no intention of keeping. The moment Ares had pointed the gun at her, Rebecca had been sure that Ares was prepared to fire it. So, why had Gatsby stepped in front of a bullet for her?

Her heart whispered to her that it was because he loved her. He loved her enough to end his own life without a second thought if it meant she was about to live. Sinking back into the comfortable chair next to the bed, Rebecca rubbed her forehead as her other hand never let go of Jay's. Everything felt confusing around her. Her mind swirled with unanswered questions and she desperately wanted answers to them. She wanted, no, needed for Jay to wake up. She needed him like a fire needed air to burn. He could mistreat her all he pleased, it didn't matter.

All she wanted was for him to wake up.

All she wanted to do was tell him that she loved him and she hoped he could someday return her feelings. Rebecca wasn't sure she could suffer anymore heartbreak if he couldn't return her love. Not even Matthew could save her from the misery that would suffocate her should the only real love she'd ever felt for another human being be crushed for a second time.

* * *

Wolfsheim looked down at Ares Patrick in disgust. Tied down to an uncomfortable bed in Gatsby's car garage, Wolfsheim watched as Weston checked on Ares' bandages. The man gave a groan as Weston prodded around and Wolfsheim couldn't help but feel some satisfaction knowing that they'd deprived the son of a bitch of any kind of painkiller.

"He's healing up well," the doctor pronounced in a somber voice.

Not saying a word, Wolfsheim stalked around the garage like a caged animal. The urge to kill Ares Patrick was overwhelming, but he resisted it. Men like Patrick didn't deserve to be alive in Wolfsheim's book, but he was leaving the pleasure to Gatsby. God only knew that his business partner and almost brother had the right to end the despicable human being currently being kept alive in the garage.

"Dare I ask why I should even bother keeping this man?" Weston asked grimly.

Looking at the man who had been his long time surgeon, Wolfsheim shook his head as he slipped his pocket watch out of his vest. Checking the time and replacing the watch, Wolfsheim smiled at the surgeon.

"Everyone's mothers and daughters, nieces, cousins…everyone will sleep better at night," he said softly. "All I need from you, Weston, is to make sure this man is healthy enough to be transported out of Gatsby's garage. God only knows the fit Mrs. Gatsby would have if she found out we were keeping this man here. You wouldn't want to upset a woman in a delicate state like hers, would you?"

Wolfsheim didn't say anything else, but he knew that the doctor understood his meaning. The man nodded and closed his leather bag.

"He is healing fine and he'd probably survive a car ride. A few more days and he'll be up and walking like there never was a bullet in his shoulder. Call me when you need me," Weston sighed. "I'm going to go check on Mr. Gatsby and encourage Mrs. Gatsby to get some rest."

"I will be up in a moment to help settle, Mrs. Gatsby," Wolfsheim replied as he watched Weston leave before nodded at his second-in-command. The doctor's confirmation that their new prisoner was healing up just fine was all he needed to hear. Letting his man handle it, Wolfsheim left the garage as two burly men stepped up and forced Ares into the trunk of a car. Once moved to a different location, Wolfsheim's plan was to have his second-in-command keep the Southern bastard alive, but just enough so that Gatsby could have the pleasure of sweetly ending Ares' life. Wolfsheim had come to think of Rebecca as his own sister and Gatsby as his brother. They were family to him and he would be damned if he saw Ares Patrick hurt anyone in his family or anyone else's.

Ares' life was about to become more miserable than it ever had been and by the time Gatsby was fully healed and ready to pay a visit, Ares would be begging for Jay Gatsby to be a merciful man and end his miserable, pathetic existence. Soon, Ares would be nothing more than a dark chapter and horrible nightmare to everyone. As time passed, all traces of Ares would fade from everyone's memories like a forgotten book wasting away on shelf.

* * *

 **Sunday**

 **July 7, 1923**

The morning sun shown into Gatsby's room and the birds chirped happily outside the opened French doors.

The slight breeze from the bay blew the near translucent white window treatments around as the fresh smell of summer flower permeated the air. It was as if nature was completely oblivious to Gatsby's own personal struggles, Rebecca reflected wearily as she sat on the bed next to next holding his hand. With her legs tucked under her and her heeled shoes kicked off on the floor, she sat next to him trying not to lose hope. Having grown tired of the chairs, Rebecca had moved to sit next to him in the hopes that maybe if she was closer to him, somehow he'd get better. She was refusing to see anyone who came to the door and for the most part, Wolfsheim had kept the shooting out of the papers. Rebecca didn't know who he had to bribe, threaten, or pay off. All she knew was that she was very grateful that no word of the accident had reached the papers.

"With thee conversing I forget all time, all seasons and their change, all please alike," she murmured softly as the words crossed her mind. "Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet. With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun when first on this delightful land he spreads his orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth after soft showers; and sweet the coming on."

Holding Gatsby's hand in hers, Rebecca tried not to grasp it too tightly as she continued, "Of grateful evening mild, then silent night with this her solemn bird and this fair moon, and these the gems of heav'n, her starry train: but neither breath of morn when she ascends with charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun on this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower, glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers,  
Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night with this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, or glittering starlight without thee is sweet."

Finishing softly, Rebecca let her eyes trace over Gatsby form. His figure still appeared to be thin and frail. His dark blonde lashes brushed against his skin and his lips were parted slightly. Still pale, Rebecca couldn't help but brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. Even looking sickly, Gatsby was still handsome. Letting her fingers trace his face, Rebecca nearly jumped when Gatsby's eyes flickered in response to her touch.

"Milton," he murmured softly.

The feeling of his hand adding slight pressure to hers cause her heart to pound in her chest as she looked at him with hopeful eyes.

"Jay," she called softly, "Can you hear me?"

Gatsby slowly opened his eyes and blinked tiredly at her. His normally vibrant blue eyes appeared dull in color and even though he'd been asleep for days, Gatsby looked exhausted.

"Milton, you're reciting Milton's Paradise Lost."

His voice sounded harsh and foreign to her, but Rebecca couldn't help the smile that graced her lips at hearing him call her name.

"Yes," she told him softly. "Everything is going to be alright, I promise."

A weak smile graced his lips, "I know."

It took all Rebecca's strength to tear herself away from Gatsby's side. Not caring that her feet were bare, she raced to the door and nearly threw it open. Wolfsheim stood on the other side of the door with his fist raised and poised to knock on the door.

"He's awake!" Rebecca breathed. "Jay is awake. Get the doctor, quickly!"


	17. XVI: Love Is the Drug

**Part XVI: Love Is the Drug**

 _"...I troll downtown the red light place_  
 _Jump up bubble up, what's in store_  
 _Love is the drug and I need to score_  
 _Showing out, showing out, hit and run_  
 _Boy meets girl where the beat goes on_  
 _Stitched up tight, can't shake free_  
 _Love is the drug, got a hook on me_

 _Oh oh catch that buzz_  
 _Love is the drug I'm thinking of_  
 _Oh oh can't you see_  
 _Love is the drug for me_  
 _Late that night I park my car_  
 _Stake my place in the singles bar_  
 _Face to face, toe to toe_  
 _Heart to heart as we hit the floor..."_

"Love Is the Drug" - Bryan Ferry & the Bryan Ferry Orchestra

 **Monday**

 **December 24, 1923**

Gatsby watched Nick pace the library of Harper House anxiously.

It was late and the fire crackled merrily as they all waited anxiously. Elizabeth had been in labor for hours, but there was no news yet and Gatsby decided that the best policy was that no news was good news. Watching Nick take another turn in the living room, he couldn't help but to shake his head. Carraway was an absolute mess and it didn't surprise Gatsby in the least. Ever since the poor sport had found out he was going to be a father, Nick had gone into overprotective mode. The poor man could barely breathe and while Gatsby had found it greatly amusing at first, he now wondered if the arrival of an actual child would exacerbate Nick's over protectiveness.

Across the library, Edward dozed on the couch as the soft ticking of a grandfather clock kept them all company. It had been a long year, but Gatsby had learned a few things about patience and applying it to one's life. His whole summer had been about learning patience, but with Rebecca's unwavering support, he'd come to be a better man. Even on the days where he hadn't wanted to get out of bed and he hadn't wanted to show up for life, she'd pushed him gently to do exactly what he didn't want to do. It had taken slow baby steps at first, but he'd learned. Now, nearly six months after Ares had come into his home with a gun, Gatsby was finally beginning to feel like himself again.

New Year's Eve was coming and he hoped that his surprise for Rebecca would be ready. It had taken him a long time for everything to come together perfectly, but he wanted not a single thing to ruin the surprise he had. When word had reached him that Roger Dunham and his wife, Rose, had nearly spent all their fortune, Gatsby knew that they needed money. Tucked along the bay in East Egg, the Dunham family owned one of the largest estates in the area. Seated on thirty acres, Dunham House was impressive. It boasted nearly twenty five bedrooms with a saloon, grand entry way, downstairs quarters for servants, and a kitchen. A beautiful house, Gatsby had paid only a few thousand dollars for it. The Dunham's were so deep in debt and with their creditors breathing down their necks, they had decided to flee the country with the money Gatsby had given them. With Henry Martin's help, Gatsby had given both the exterior and the interior of the house extensive renovations. It would be the perfect way to start over because that was what they both so desperately needed, Gatsby reflected sadly. The house he'd created in West Egg only held haunting ghosts of the past for them both and in this new house, they could create a bright future for themselves without the fear of the past coming to haunt them.

Watching Nick take another turn, he cleared his throat causing the younger man to stop and Edward Harper to sit up.

"Just relax," Gatsby to Nick softly. "Just be patient Nick, these things take time."

"How can you be so calm?" the nervous father demanded. "She's up there and…"

"She's having a child, son," Edward supplied quietly from the couch where he was dozing in and out of sleep. "Elizabeth is birthing a child and it can, no, will take a long time. You'd better sit down so you don't exhaust yourself."

Nick chose to ignore their father-in-law's words and continued to pace. Just seeing his friend so anxious brought memories back to Gatsby's mind. He knew the feeling well and it had been the only thing he'd felt from the time he'd woken up in July. It hadn't mattered that Rebecca had been by his side, no, Gatsby had been anxious and most of all, he'd been scared. The feeling of that fear deep in his chest brought him back to the very day when he'd woken up and had spoken to the doctor about his condition. He could still smell the flowers that had been on the bed next to him and he could still feel Rebecca's hand in his…

 _Sitting up in bed with pillows propping him up, Gatsby waited on baited breath as the doctor spoke softly to him. Rebecca was perched on the bed next him, just as much anxiety in her eyes as in his, she held onto his hand tightly trying to be of some comfort, but they both knew nothing she did would truly take away either of their anxiety._

 _"_ _I can't say what caused the paralysis," Weston said calmly as Rebecca looked at him tearfully, "It may just be temporary or…"_

 _She looked up sharply at Weston as he trailed off, "It's not temporary…"_

 _"_ _Only time will tell which condition Mr. Gatsby has," Weston answered her miserably. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Gatsby."_

 _Still holding his hand tightly, Rebecca looked away. Gatsby could see her eyes filling with tears and it stirred something deep within him. His own fear and anxiety slipped away as he reached out and tucked a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear, he let his fingertips graze over her pearl earring dangling from her earlobe before he caressed her cheek with his thumb._

 _"_ _No tears," he said softly. "Don't cry, my sweet…smile."_

 _Rebecca turned and looked back at him with a forced smile. Her eyes still glittered with unshed tears as she held his hand against her cheek._

 _"_ _There it is," he smiled at her gently. "There's that smile I love."_

 _Gatsby turned and looked at Weston, "Can we have a moment?"_

 _Weston nodded and left them alone. Turning back to look at Rebecca, he caught a tear falling down her cheek and brushed it away with his thumb._

 _"_ _Don't cry," he whispered softly to her again. "Please, don't cry."_

 _"_ _How can I not?" Rebecca asked tearfully, "This is my fault. You might never walk again. This is my fault. How can I not cry? You should have just let Ares shoot me."_

 _"_ _Don't say that," Gatsby said firmly. "Rebecca…"_

 _Another tear slipped down her cheek as she smiled sadly at him, "Jay…you don't…"_

 _"_ _I love you," Gatsby blurted out without second thought. "I love you and there was no way I would let Ares ever hurt you again. I promised you that and I told you I wouldn't break anymore promises."_

 _"_ _But…but…you might never walk again!"_

 _Pulling her down to him so that her head rested on his chest, Gatsby pressed soft kisses to the top of her head._

 _"Y_ _ou are alive," he told her softly. "You are safe and we are both alive. That is all that matters. I would do what I did again in a heartbeat if it meant that your heart kept beating. Don't you understand? A life without you isn't something I could ever live with."_

 _...July 30, 1923…_

 _Letting himself be wheeled through his own gardens was almost humiliating, but seeing how happy Rebecca was just walking beside him and holding hands eased any humiliation he felt. Doctor Weston wasn't sure if his spine had suffered temporary damage or if the damage was permanent. Either way, Gatsby was luck to be alive. The bullet had missed his liver by only a few centimeters and Weston had told him privately that if the bullet had hit his liver, there wasn't much that could have been done. The blood loss would have been so great that it probably would have killed him._

 _The idea of narrowly escaping death almost made Gatsby shiver with fear as he looked up at Rebecca and watched her look out at the flowers surrounding them. Afternoon tea was being served outside and Gatsby didn't mind it. Seeing the way Rebecca's eyes lit up seeing the flowers and nature was the only thing he needed. It didn't matter that his back ached something fierce or that he was beginning to feel exhausted from simply getting ready for the day. All that mattered to him was seeing her smiling face in that moment._

 _Afternoon refreshments had been laid out on the stone patio overlooking the bay. Shaded from the blossoming trees, the white iron table was covered with a lace cloth and various pastries. The sight of two chairs made Gatsby feel only bitterness as it reminded him of his chair. He'd never truly be able to sit next to Rebecca properly again. He'd never get to go dancing with her. They could never go walking in central park like he'd once done with her..._

 _No, he'd always be confined to the damn chair._

 _"_ _You're not happy about something," Rebecca said softly as Crawley wheeled him to sit next to her chair._

 _Now that Rebecca was seated, they were at least eye level and it made Gatsby feel only a little better. He wasn't sure he was ever going to get used to having to look up at people to have a conversation. At six foot, he was used to have people look up to him, not down. Crawley and a maid disappeared into the background as Rebecca began to serve them both a glass of iced tea. The warm breeze caressed his skin as the tantalizing scents of flowers mixed with Rebecca's perfume in the air. A stray curl at the nape of her neck taunted him as the wind danced with it. The bitterness he'd been feeling moments ago trickled away as he watched her. Her actions were soothing and comforting a way he'd never felt before as he resisted the impulsive urge to reach out and wrap the stray curl in his fingers._

 _"_ _Mr. Wolfsheim won't be joining us," she said again as she looked over him. "Something came up and he called earlier. My new maid only told me just before we came out."_

 _Gatsby was silent for a moment. He knew why Wolfsheim wasn't coming. Ares Patrick was still alive and the beating he'd taken the night before from one of his own men had nearly killed the son of a bitch. Wolfsheim had simply gone to make sure that the scum was still alive. No one was in any rush to end Ares. Gatsby was rather fond of the idea of dragging out the suffering and final days of the man's life. When the end came, he knew that the revolver sitting in the drawer up in his study would come to great use. It had been the only possession of Dan Cody's that he'd been able to secure, and Gatsby could still hear Cody's voice in his head telling him to use the revolver and her bullets well._

 _"_ _How is this new maid of yours working out?" he asked her as she set a cold glass of iced tea in front of him and situated that plate of pastries between them before helping herself to her own glass of iced tea. Gatsby watched her for a few moments before she cleared her throat._

 _"_ _She's coming along, I suppose," Rebecca admitted. "She's not as good as Tilly, but I think with a little practice she'll improve."_

 _Her hesitant words brought a smile to Gatsby face. He couldn't understand why, but he knew that she was down playing whatever faults her new maid had. He knew from his own valet, Blackburn, that the new maid would never be able to fill the shoes Tilly had left behind. The girl was young, barely twenty and she was petrified of Rebecca. Why the girl was afraid of his wife, Gatsby didn't know. He did know that he wasn't going to pay someone to be incompetent with the most precious thing in his life. Words had already passed between him, Blackburn, and Crawley about the maid. New candidates were being screened and Gatsby didn't care if he had to go through a hundred girls to find the perfect maid for Rebecca, he would do it. Perhaps he set the bar high in his requirements to Crawley and Blackburn, but he wanted the best and only the best for Rebecca._ _Watching her reach for a pastry, the smile on his face grew to a grin as he thought about the future plans he was making for them._

 _"_ _I have a surprise for you," he told her softly as she looked at him with an arched brow._

 _"_ _Surprise, what surprise?"_

 _Taking her hand in his, Gatsby brushed his thumb over the back of her hand before raising it and pressing a soft kiss to it, "Do you remember that man I introduced you to at the party?"_

 _A dark look crossed Rebecca's face before she quickly hid her pain from him, "There were a lot of people there that night. Who are you speaking of?"_

 _Before Gatsby could reply, Crawley stepped into their line of sight and cleared his throat._

 _"_ _I beg your pardon for interrupting, Mr. Gatsby, sir," the old man said. "A Mr. Henry Martin is here to see you."_

 _Behind Crawley stood the flaming haired man and Rebecca remember the man instantly._

 _"_ _Mr. Martin?" Rebecca asked looking at the man with shock. "From the party?"_

 _"_ _Mrs. Gatsby," he said with a smile. "It's lovely to see you again. I was rather hoping you could help me."_

 _"_ _Help you?" she asked again looking at him with a puzzled expression, "How could I possibly help you?"_

 _Gatsby gave a slight wave of his hand and dismissed Crawley as Mr. Martin settled himself down into the vacant chair next to Rebecca._

 _"_ _You see, I'm designing a garden and I'm at a loss. I was rather hoping I could use your ideas as inspiration, Mrs. Gatsby," the man said quickly. "Naturally, I will give credit where credit is due, but I could only think of you for help. You seem like a woman who knows exactly what she'd want in a garden and I want nothing more than your help, if that is possible."_

 _A smile brightened Rebecca's face as Gatsby sat back in his chair with smile mirroring her own. Just watching her talk to Henry Martin about exactly what she'd always dreamed her own gardens to look like brought a pleasure to him that he'd never felt before. Not even all he'd done for Daisy had ever brought him such happiness. A smile was firmly fixed on Rebecca's face as she animatedly described to Henry everything she could possibly imagine. A book of flora opened between them as she flipped through the pages excitedly showing Henry every flower she'd ever wanted and exactly where. To her, it was all hypothetical. Gatsby wasn't quite ready to reveal his plans to her yet._ _Accepting another glass of iced tea offered to him by Crawley, Gatsby continued to watch with pleasure as Rebecca unknowingly planned the gardens in their future home._

 _...August 30, 1923…_

 _With each passing month his feelings for her had only deepened. In such a short time, Rebecca had become like oxygen to him, something he couldn't live without. Sitting and listening to her play the piano, Gatsby had long since resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to walk again. Along with walking, Gatsby wasn't going to be doing any kind of physical activity._ _If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine what it would be like to be intimate with Rebecca. His mind could almost conjure up exactly what it would feel like to have her skin under his lips. The soft noises she would make..._

 _He could see and hear it all, but opening his eyes brought back the harsh reality that Gatsby was sure he would never be able to accept. His mind could paint the clear picture of what it could be like to be with her, but he never could really be with Rebecca in any way that mattered to him. Yes, he could hold her hand and kiss her, but he could never give her anything truly beyond that. There wasn't any way he could now that he was bound to a chair._

 _Pushing those thoughts away, Gatsby watched with a mixture of remorse and longing. In many ways, he couldn't help but feel like he was robbing her of a part of life she'd never fully get to enjoy. He knew about her time with Matthew Spring. It wasn't a topic he wanted to broach anytime soon, but Gatsby knew she'd had sex with the English Earl. Matthew had given her the love and the comfort that Rebecca should have gotten from her husband and not for the first time, Gatsby felt his failures acutely. Once again he was robbing her and he would disappoint her in the end again. She'd spoken to him once about wanting children. Not being about to walk, Gatsby knew he wasn't able to do what was required of him to produce a family._

 _Could he truly condemn her to a life of celibacy without the hope of ever having a family of her own?_

 _The startling truth was that Gatsby didn't think he could do it. He didn't think he could condemn Rebecca to do just that. He couldn't deprive her of her own dreams any longer and he couldn't deprive her of a full life that included sexual pleasure. She might be perfectly fine with the way things were now, but what happened in ten years when she did want a family? A family wasn't something he could give her and for the first time, Gatsby almost hoped that Rebecca had gone with Matthew Spring. At least the Earl could have given her a future, but truth be told, Gatsby was far too selfish to let her go. He was at an cross roads and he didn't know what to do._

 _All he wanted was her, but he couldn't give her what she wanted. There was only one solution in Gatsby's mind as to what he could do to fix the problem. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but if it meant that he could stay with Rebecca and she could be happy then he would gladly swallow it. The last music notes faded and on cue, Gatsby clapped. A soft blush came to Rebecca's cheeks as she stood and walked towards him. Wanting to meet her half way, he began to roll himself towards her. The chair near him hadn't been pushed in and he bumped into. A sensation passed through his foot that he hadn't felt in months and Gatsby swore loudly. Staring down at the chair and his foot, he knew he must have been imaging what he was feeling. Weston was so clear that he'd never feel again thing again. It just wasn't possible because of the damage._

 _"_ _I'm so sorry, darling," Rebecca frowned as she rushed to push the chair he'd bumped into. "I'll have Crawley tell the servants to remember to push the chairs in."_

 _"_ _It's nothing you did," he told her softly as he grabbed her hand. "I wasn't paying attention."_

 _"_ _Still," she murmured softly to him. "They should know better than to leave these chairs about. This is your home. If something is to be done a certain way I want it done a certain way and if the maids don't like it, they can seek other employment."_

 _Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, Rebecca let go and walked to the small cabinet in the room that contained scotch. Pouring them both a generous amount into tumblers, she returned and handed him a glass. Gatsby watched her sit down next to him in the Parisian chair that was fashionable._

 _"_ _You've been so quiet all night," Rebecca commented quietly before she took a sip from her tumbler. "Are you alright?"_

 _Sucking in a deep breath, Gatsby set his tumbler down on the small table near him. Picking up one of her hands, he watched as the tumbler and her free hand sat in her lap. The ruby engagement ring he'd given her sparkled in the soft lighting of the lamp near them. The diamond surrounding the ruby glittered as well with her soft gold wedding band lying next to the ring._ _It had only become a recent habit of his to wear his own wedding band. Wolfsheim had teased him awful about it, but it didn't matter._

 _Gatsby started softy staring at the ruby ring, "I…I can't give you what you want Rebecca. You and I both know that I can't give you a future while I'm bound in this chair. I can't give you passion and I can't give you anything beyond that. I can't…I can't give you a family, but I can't deprive you of that chance either."_

 _"_ _What are you saying?" she murmured softly to him. "Don't tell me what I think you're going to say, Jay."_

 _Swallowing, Gatsby looked up at her, "I won't hold it against you and I won't let anyone ridicule you in the papers. You must know that if…if a child were to come of it…you must know that I would claim that child as my own and protect you both as much as I possibly could. I don't want to deprive you of that pleasure that exists between a woman…and a man. I don't want to deprive you of the chance of having a family and your own children. I don't care. I just don't want to lose you, Rebecca. I've only just found you and I don't want to lose you because I can't give you what you want. I won't hold whatever you do behind closed doors against you, just don't leave me."_

 _He barely registered his own tears until a single drop hit both his skin and hers. In the next moment, she was seated horizontally on his lap. Her arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders and his own arms automatically went around her petite frame. The silk of her dress felt like water beneath his fingertips as he held on to the soft curve of her hips._

 _"_ _I don't want anyone," she whispered to him tearfully. "The only person I do want is you."_

 _"_ _And in ten years? What if you want someone else then?"_

 _"_ _I don't want anyone else because as much as I have tried to deny it, I have only ever loved you. I tried drowning myself in Matthew, thinking that if I simply forced myself to move on I would forget all my feelings for you. It didn't work, Jay, because it only took a moment to fall in love with you and it will take me a lifetime to stop loving you. Even then, I don't think I could ever stop loving you. I've seen you in every light imaginable and my love for you has never wavered. I can't suppress it any more and trying to will only make it painful. I don't know what the future holds. For all I know, tomorrow we could both die in a terrible car crash, but I do know that I will love you tomorrow like I have today and in ten years, I will love you as I always have. Please, don't break my heart anymore by telling me to go sleep with another man. I couldn't do because I know it would hurt you and haven't we hurt each other enough? You're what I want, Jay. You're all I want."_

 _Her words shocked him as she softly pressed a kiss to his smooth cheek. Her perfume enveloped his senses and despite the fact that a voice screamed in his head for him to push her away and force her to be intimate with another for her own sake, Gatsby couldn't. Turning his head, his lips caught her in a soft kiss and for a moment, time ceased. Rebecca was the one to break the kiss and her forehead rested on his. Just having her in his arms felt so right and all the problems in the world slipped away from him. Her words gave him hope and a strength he didn't know he could possess._

 _"_ _I love you," he murmured to her softly._

 _"_ _I love you, too," Rebecca told him with a smile as she pulled away. "I love you."_

 _A smile came across his lips. Her words were like the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard and he wanted to hear it again and again till the he died._

 _...September 15, 1923…_

 _The tingling feeling in his foot hadn't gone away since the night he'd bumped it on a chair in the music room. While both their hearts had been lightened by their mutual love, Gatsby had still been experiencing mild pain. He hadn't wanted to worry Rebecca more than needed. Having taken her to the opera the night before, Gatsby had noticed that the pain had begun to increase. Throughout the night, it had radiated higher and higher up his legs until he'd begged Rebecca to leave saying he wasn't feeling well. She'd been understanding and concerned when they'd left. The car ride home had been pure agony for him and by the time they'd arrived home, he'd been harsh with her in demanding Blackburn's help._

 _Knowing that the pain had been speaking more than him, Gatsby had made sure that she knew that he wasn't angry at her during breakfast. He'd even voluntarily agreed to see Weston when Rebecca had suggested it as a term of his apology. Gatsby used the memory of Rebecca's grateful smile when he agreed to see Weston as his motivation to get through the doctor's visit. He would have much rather been working, but the pain was becoming more and more intense. Seated in the library and waiting impatiently for the doctor, Gatsby checked his pocket watch for the tenth time in a few minutes. Just as he was about to tell Crawley to send the doctor away when the man arrived, Blackburn came and announced the arrival of the man in question._

 _"_ _Mr. Gatsby, sir, I'm terribly sorry for being late," Weston breathed heavily as he followed the valet into the library. "An unexpected matter came up."_

 _"_ _I don't have all day. I was hoping to make this as quick as possible."_

 _"_ _Of course, sir. What seems to be the problem?"_

 _"_ _You're going to think I'm insane," Gatsby sighed impatiently as he pinched the bridge of his nose._

 _"_ _I can't say that until you tell me what the problem is, sir."_

 _"_ _I've been having some feeling in my legs."_

 _"_ _You said you had feeling?" Weston asked looking amazed. "Really?"_

 _"_ _I don't know," Gatsby told him anxiously. "That's what it's felt like though. Genuine pain in both my feet and legs."_

 _"_ _You felt pain?"_

 _"_ _It's the only way I can describe the feeling."_

 _Weston's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline as stood up, "I need to examine you right away."_

 _Nearly a half hour later, Gatsby laid on his side with his back facing the doctor. Weston's fingers poked and prodded his spine and legs with every touch feeling like thousands of needles being pressed into his skin at the same time. For nearly ten minutes the doctor touched him and just when Gatsby thought he'd scream in pain at Weston, the doctor stopped._

 _"_ _I think what afflicts you is a bruised spine," Weston said calmly. "I maybe wrong, but I truly do think that is what the problem is. I may have been wrong about the original injury that you received at the hands of Mr. Patrick. I originally thought that the bullet hit parts of your spine, but if the bullet didn't, you may only have bruising in the area Mr. Gatsby. As your back heals itself from the injury, the feeling of pain is normal and can be a good thing. The pain might also be from the weakening of your leg muscles as well as the ligaments and tendons. Working the muscles and strengthening them might help with the pain. By doing that, I can't promise it, but you may very well be able to walk again, Mr. Gatsby."_

 _For nearly an hour, Gatsby asked Weston every question that he could possibly think of. When the doctor left him alone, he felt something he hadn't in a very long time. H_ _ope._

 _...October 28, 1923…_

 _In the solitude of his rooms, Gatsby slowly began to regain his strength doing the exercises Doctor Weston had given him. He hadn't told Rebecca of the feeling he was regaining. If the motion of his legs didn't come back fully, it would crush her to know that his paralysis was permanent and he wasn't going to crush her in anyway. He wasn't going to jinx anything by saying a word. Swearing Doctor Weston to keep their conversation between the both of them, Gatsby knew he was frightened more than anything. He was frightened that maybe the doctor was wrong. Maybe he would never have mobility back and he would forever be forced to use a damn chair._

 _Each forced exercise was like pure agony._

 _It had been weeks since he moved any muscle below his waist and though progress was slow, each day he got a little better. Using a chain, he was able to walk only a few short steps. Every day he got better though and it was comforting to know that someday he'd never need a cane to assist him everywhere. He'd sworn both Blackburn and Crawley to silence on their walking lessons and he didn't know why. Crawley had asked him repeatedly why he didn't let Rebecca know he was able to walk and the only answer he'd been able to come up with was fear. Letting himself hope that maybe they could lead a normal life was scary and yet, it was the only dream that he still clung to like a blanket._

 _It was the only thing that got him through the pain and the long nights of agony he felt as the muscles he'd stopped using for months screamed at him after having been forced to work. The simple dream of getting to wake up next to his own wife after a night of lovemaking was the thin thread that kept him focused and determined to walk again. Forcing himself to take the few steps he could, Gatsby gritted his teeth as the familiar feeling of pain returned. He only made it a few steps before Blackburn and Crawley were helping him to not to fall. While walking was difficult, Gatsby had mastered being able to stand on his own for a little while. He still needed the support of his cane, but he was able to at least stand for a minute or two._

 _"_ _I'm alright," Gatsby breathed to both men. "Let me go. I want to at least get to the bed today."_

 _Blackburn and Crawley nodded and eased their grasp on his arms. He was so close to the bed and he'd walked further that day than he'd walked any other day before. Each step was still painful, but it was a little less painful than the step prior. Taking a deep breath, Gatsby had barely taken a step when the door to his bedroom opened and Rebecca stepped in carrying a small letter and package. Her eyes went wide at seeing him standing. With a determination he'd never experienced before, Gatsby took the five steps to his bed and sank down onto the covers._

 _Looking up, he met Rebecca's stunned eyes as he took his handkerchief out and wiped the excess sweat from his brow. The heel of her shoe echoed on the polished wood floors as she walked towards him. He looked up to her as she stood between his aching legs. Tears were in her eyes and despite the pain, Gatsby smiled up at her. His strength was nearly stolen from him in those steps and he wanted nothing to do but lie down and rest, but the amazement in her eyes gave him enough strength to stay sitting up. From the corner of his eye, he saw Crawley and Blackburn leave._

 _"_ _You're…you're walking!"_

 _A brighter smile came to Gatsby's lips as he watched her blink back tears again, "I have a bruised spine. Weston's diagnosis was wrong. I wanted to surprise you by not needing a cane to walk, but apparently there has been a change in those plans."_

 _Laughter bubbled from Rebecca's lips as she hugged him tightly. Nothing else mattered in that moment as Gatsby returned her hug with a bright smile. He could walk! The future had never seemed so bright to him and in that moment, anything seemed possible. He firmly believed that all the darkness they had been though together was over. The stars seemed to be the limit of what the future could hold. Holding Rebecca, he pulled away and pressed his lips to hers passionately._

 _...December 15, 1923…_

 _"_ _Are you ready for this?" Wolfsheim asked quietly as the Rolls Royce pulled into an abandoned warehouse near the docks and both men slipped on leather gloves. The moon was high in the sky and the stars shimmered like diamonds as Gatsby looked up at them. The air was chilly and it felt like knives against one's skin when it blew. None of that matter though to him because tonight was the night he'd finally have revenge. Gatsby had been dreaming about the day Ares' life would end at his hands._

 _For months, Wolfsheim had kept the despicable man alive. Tortured and mutilated on more than one occasion, Gatsby couldn't help but compare Ares to a pig that was being fattened for slaughter. Weston had been to see Ares on several occasions in the past few weeks to patch the Southern bastard up and give the man a clean bill of health. Everything had been in preparation of this night and Gatsby knew that Ares wasn't stupid. The man had to have known for a while that his end was nearing._

 _"_ _I've been ready for months," he told Wolfsheim as the driver opened the door. "The better question: is Ares ready for tonight?"_

 _Stepping slowly out of the car, Gatsby leaned heavily on his rosewood cane. He'd been slowly improving, but recovery was a long process. Walking steadily towards the door of the warehouse with Wolfsheim next to him in case he fell, Gatsby sucked in a deep breath before one of Wolfsheim's men opened the heavy metal door. Their footsteps echoed on the cement floor as they walked into the dimly lit area. A single lamp swung above the lone hanging figure in the center of the room. Bound up by his wrists, Ares Patrick looked gaunt and frail as he lifted his head._

 _"_ _So…the Great Gatsby lived," he said with a sadistic smile. "Did you make a deal with the devil? Is that why no man can kill you?"_

 _Before anyone could say anything, the man closest to Ares slammed his fist into his ribs. A sickening crunch was heard and Ares let out a howl of pain. Panting heavily, Ares continued to smile at Gatsby with a crazed look in his eyes._

 _"_ _How is your little wife?" Ares taunted. "Is she still as pretty as I remember her being? Are her legs still as creamy smooth when I touched them? If the rumors are true about you never consummating your marriage, I must tell you that she was a delicious to taste. However, kissing her lips...that was my favorite thing to do."_

 _Wolfsheim's man delivered another punch to Ares' ribs and a deafening scream of pain came from the battered man's lips. Wolfsheim slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew a dagger. Offering the silver beauty to Gatsby, Wolfsheim gave Ares his own sickening smile._

 _"_ _Don't think you're safe," he whispered. "When I turn my back, I won't know what Gatsby does to you. All I know is that he's well within his rights to do whatever he does to you. No one will come for you when you scream. No one even knows that you're here."_

 _Wolfsheim left and Gatsby took the knife in his gloved hands as rage grew inside of him that threatened to erupt._

 _"_ _You didn't think that you would actually get away with it, did you?" Gatsby hissed as he pressed the dagger into Ares' cheek, "Did you really think you would be able to hide from me and that I wouldn't find you? You had to have known that I would go to the ends of the world to find you after what you did. You don't get to rape an innocent woman and then escape without consequence. My wife may not get justice under societies laws, but you can be assured that I will extract justice for her without them. Tell me that you're not stupid enough to realize that the moment you decided to hurt her, your death warrant was already sighed in blood."_

 _Holding on tightly to the dagger, Gatsby slipped a cigar cutter out of his pocket. Holding the cutter up, he looked down at Ares and smiled dangerously._

 _"_ _You enjoy taunting me about what you did to her. We both know that you're a sadistic son of a bitch and my wife wasn't your first victim, but rest assured, she will be your last. Do you really think that I was ever going to let you walk off without a scratch? Take his pants off."_

 _Ares' eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen. Kicking and screaming, the man desperately fought Wolfsheim's men, but Gatsby didn't care. All he could see was Rebecca's broken and bruised body on the hotel bed where Ares had left her. He hadn't even bothered to cover her after what he'd done and had left her to more humiliation as others had seen what had been done. As the images of what he'd seen that night in the hotel room flashed across his mind, Gatsby felt a rage unlike anything he'd ever felt growing in his body. For so long, he'd carefully controlled himself. He'd delayed coming to see Ares for a long as humanly possible. No one had minded simply because Wolfsheim and his men were more than happy to hold the Southern pig hostage. Now, Gatsby's control was slipping and he knew that his rage would take over._

 _He blindly turned and with one swift cut, Ares let out a blood curling shriek. The rage that Gatsby had so carefully guarded flooded through him in that one moment and blindingly he began to stab the other man over and over again. It wasn't until Wolfsheim pulled him away that reality came back to Gatsby as he looked at the bloodied Ares Patrick. He didn't know how many stab wounds he'd inflicted and he didn't care. No amount would be enough for the pain that Rebecca had been caused. No punishment would ever be enough._

 _"_ _You got him," Wolfsheim whispered softly. "Clean up and I'll take care of everything else. We'll go to my house so that we can both change and look presentable to meet your wife at the Opera."_

 _With a nod, Gatsby turned away and accepted the damp cloth one of his men held out to him. Wiping his face, neck and hands, Gatsby turned back to look at Wolfsheim when he heard the sickening crunch of bone being broken. Wolfsheim picked up Ares' left index finger and slipped it into a small smoke box. Slipping the box into his pocket, he winked at Gatsby as he smiled._

 _"_ _A little reminder to others who want to do harm to those we love," he said softly before nodding at one of his men. "Leave the body somewhere that the police can find it. I want this on every newspaper and make sure that no one can trace the crime back to us. You know what to do."_

 _Gatsby watched as two men poured something over Ares' dead corpse. The lifeless body was still strung up from the ceiling and taking a deep breath, he left without a second look back. The nightmare was finally over and Rebecca could take comfort in the fact that the man who had violated and abused her would never be able to hurt her again. His patience had paid off in the end and the problem that had been Ares Patrick was eradicated…_

Gatsby looked up from the fire when he heard the door open. Rebecca walked into the library with a smile on her face unlike anything Gatsby had seen before. Nick nearly tripped over himself as he moved over to her with a questioning look on her face.

"Well?" Edward Harper asked impatiently.

"You should go upstairs," Rebecca smiled at Nick. "Mother and son are waiting."

"I-I-I have a son?" Nick babbled as an expression of wonder crossed his features. An impossibly large smile appeared on his face for a moment before he rushed out of the library with Edward Harper hot on his heels calling for a servant to bring brandy and cigars for the men to celebrate the new born heir. Walking over to where he sat, Gatsby looked up at her with a soft smile as she stood.

"How is your sister? Exhausted?"

"More than you'll ever believe," Rebecca told him tiredly. "It was long and difficult, but both Elizabeth and Henry are fine."

"Henry?" Gatsby asked with a raised brow. "They're naming him Henry Carraway?"

A small chuckle came from Rebecca's lips, "My sister is naming her son Henry. Nick is simply going smile and agree to the name because let's be honest, Elizabeth did most of the hard work. Therefore, she should have the right to pick out the little boy's name."

Pushing himself out of the chair with the assistance of his cane, Gatsby smiled and offered Rebecca his hand. Without a second thought, she laced her hand with his.

"Better go wish the new parents joy."

Before either of them could move, the door crashed open as two footmen wrestled a distraught Nick into the library. Letting go of his hand, Gatsby watched as Rebecca quickly went to Nick and hugged him.

"What happened?" she asked him. "Please, what happened?"

"She's dead," Nick sobbed. "She just stopped-d-d-d…Elizabeth stopped breathing."


	18. XVII: Cosmic Love

**Part XVII: Cosmic Love**

 _"...The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out_  
 _You left me in the dark_  
 _No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight_  
 _In the shadow of your heart_

 _And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat_  
 _I tried to find the sound_  
 _But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness,_  
 _So darkness I became_

 _The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out_  
 _You left me in the dark_  
 _No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight_  
 _In the shadow of your heart_

 _I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map_  
 _And knew that somehow I could find my way back_  
 _Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too..."_

"Cosmic Love" - Florence + the Machine

 **Tuesday**

 **January 1, 1924**

Rebecca stared out the window from her sitting room to the bay below. There was nothing pleasant about the day. It didn't matter that it was New Year's Day and it didn't matter that she'd refused to see anyone since Christmas Day. Her whole body felt so raw with grief that she wasn't sure she'd ever be the same again.

Time seemed to simply drag on for her with each day that Elizabeth was gone. Both Mary and Elizabeth were gone leaving her alone. Despite everything that had happened, little Henry had slept through his nap times like nothing was different. He didn't even know that his mother was gone and it was heartbreaking.

Both her nephews were now motherless and more than ever, Rebecca wanted to pull her oldest nephew in her arms along with Henry and tell them both that it would be alright. Whatever happened in life, Rebecca wanted Thomas and Henry to know that she would always be there for them. It was a silent promise that she kept in her heart to her sisters. Both of them could rest in peace knowing that their boys were taken care of.

Feeling a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, Rebecca looked up to see Gatsby's equally sad eyes.

"We should go," he said softly. "Nick is probably waiting for us as well as your parents."

With a nod, Rebecca grabbed her black shawl and stood.

* * *

Harper House was a depressing as Rebecca thought it would be. All afternoon people filtered though the house offering their half meant condolences as they congregated afterwards to gossip about whatever new scandal had happened over Christmas. It was something that Rebecca had grown used to over the years and even though she should have been furious at the masses treating Elizabeth's wake like a party, she couldn't bring that anger to the surface.

Instead, she could only remember all the times that she and Elizabeth had done the very same thing. Perhaps it was just the circle of how things worked, but Rebecca couldn't bring herself to care anymore. All she could feel was exhaustion in her bones and weariness in her soul that had never truly faded.

Sitting in a chair as the receiving line continued on, Rebecca looked down when she felt Gatsby's fingers lace with hers. It was strange seeing a wedding ring on his finger, but despite the strangeness of it, she liked it.

"It's almost over," he told her softly, "We'll go home soon. You need to rest because you look tired, my sweet."

There was nothing Rebecca could say to his words because they were true. She was tired and sleep had been elusive to her since Elizabeth's death.

Excusing herself and standing up, Rebecca slipped away from the throws of people and grabbed a wine glass from a passing waiter. Downing half the glass of wine at once, Rebecca slipped out into the empty hallway and rested back against the cool wood paneling. Staring down the hallway to the window, she pushed herself up and walked towards it. The faint noises of the people in the house faded from her as she stared out into the winter garden. She could hear the faint laughter of little girls as they ran in the gardens.

The memories of playing with Mary and Elizabeth played over and over again in her mind as did their childish laughter. If she looked hard enough, Rebecca was sure she could still conjure up exactly where they had all stood to count when they played hide and seek in the summer with Matthew.

A tear slipped down her cheek and without even realizing it, Rebecca brushed it away. The memories she shared with her sisters seemed like they belonged to a different person. Rebecca had been so lost in her thoughts that she nearly jumped when a cold hand touched her shoulder. Turning, she was surprised to see Jordan Baker standing before her looking bored as could be while clutching a wine glass in one hand. Elegant as always, Jordan's tall, boyish frame wore the latest fashions as she gave an insincere smile.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your sister," Jordan sighed dramatically. "I couldn't be more shocked. She was always so kind and pleasant when I saw her. She will be missed, I promise you that."

Despite how fake Jordan Baker was, Rebecca felt a smile come to her lips. It was no wonder Daisy Buchanan had been friends with Jordan. They were practically cut from the same cloth and it made Rebecca wonder what Nick ever saw in Jordan during the short time he'd been infatuated with the golfer.

"Thank you, Jordan," she murmured softly. "I appreciate your words."

Jordan set the glass of wine she'd been carrying down on the small table next to the window and shook her head. Looking around, the tall dark haired woman sighed before looking back at her.

"This may not be the best time for this, Mrs. Gatsby," Jordan said. "How do you feel about going shopping? I have something very important I need to speak with you about and I can't do it here. I can, however, tell you all about it over a private lunch after we go shopping. Can you do the twenty-sixth of January? It's a Saturday and I think that it's best I tell you sooner what I know rather than later."

Curiosity peaked, Rebecca cocked her head to the side and stared at Jordan.

"What do you know?"

"Nothing that I can repeat here in public," Jordan repeated. "Do we have an engagement?"

Setting her wine glass down, Rebecca agreed. As quickly as the word "yes" left her mouth, Jordan had retired back down the hallway towards the sea of people currently gathered in the parlor. Not bothering to follow her and rejoin the party, Rebecca turned and looked back out the window as the snow swirled outside signaling a coming storm.

"What did Miss Baker want?"

Turning and seeing Gatsby standing next to her holding a glass of wine, Rebecca shook her head and scoffed, "She had something to tell me and she couldn't do it here."

Gatsby barely concealed his eye roll as set his wine of glass down on the small table that now contained three nearly empty wine glasses. Despite the fact that he was still using a cane, Gatsby looked handsome. Superbly dressed, Rebecca felt the familiar fluttering of desire bubbling up inside her as she watched him. Not for the first time, she felt incredibly lucky that Gatsby had lived.

It had taken some bribing and threats, but Wolfsheim had been able to pass off Gatsby's shooting as an accident. No one except for a select few knew the actual truth of what had happened and she was so grateful that he was alive and making great progress in getting better.

* * *

It was late, but Rebecca couldn't sleep. It wasn't the howling wind of the snow storm that violently attacked New York outside. No, she hadn't been able to sleep in weeks and the truth was that every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was the lifeless eyes of Elizabeth. A tortured image, Rebecca pushed the bed covers away from her and let her feet touch the ice cold floors. Shivering, she quickly grabbed her robe and crept into the dim hallway.

Walking to the private study where she knew Gatsby would be Rebecca slipped inside without knocking. Sitting in on the large, comfortable couch, Gatsby's arm rested against the back of the couch as he sat in the far corner with his elbow resting on the arm of the couch and the telephone pressed to his ear. He was murmuring quietly into the phone. What he was talking about, Rebecca didn't care nor did she listen.

Instead, she crept towards the couch and lay down. Gatsby watched every move she made and when she rested her head on his thigh, he grabbed the cashmere blanket that had been near him and covered her with it.

The soothing murmur of Gatsby voice almost lulled Rebecca to sleep as she listened to him talk and the soft popping sounds of the fire that burned in the grate. At some point, Gatsby arm left the back of the couch and he gently caressed her arm. She knew that he had meant to help soothe her to sleep, but in did the exact opposite. It only ignited a passion inside her and shifting a little, Rebecca could feel the heat pooling between her legs.

The call between Gatsby and whomever he was talking with ended a few minutes later. His soothing touch never stopped even after he'd replaced the receiver on the holder next to him on the small round table. Barely awake, Rebecca forced herself to stand up. The thin material of her nightgown gave Gatsby a view of her body as she stood in front of the fire. She knew that he could see her, but Rebecca didn't care.

"I couldn't sleep," she said softly. "I just…wanted to be near you."

"Your feet are bare," he observed quietly as he stood up and reached for her. Rebecca let him touch her waist and the feeling of him simply tying the sash of her robe sent thrills up her spine. His fingers ghosted over her ribs and nearly elected a giggle from her. She'd always been ticklish there, but she didn't want him knowing that.

"I didn't feel like putting them on," she told him quietly. "It was dark and I just wanted you."

His arms encircled her petite frame and Gatsby pulled her close to him. Still dressed in a suit, Rebecca let her fingertips brush over the skin of his forearm before feeling the softness of his white dress shirt. The vest Gatsby wore was unbuttoned and his tie had long since been disregarded. The top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone and she could see a few fine hairs on his chest. Only once she'd seen him undressed and that had been when he'd been lying in bed nearly dying from a gunshot wound.

"You're frowning," he murmured to her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied softly. "I just…I was thinking of you…when I thought you were dying last summer."

"I miss your smile and laughter," Gatsby said with a smile that made Rebecca feel nervous. "I miss it more than anything in the world because it always brings so much joy to those around you. I know ways to get it back though."

"What ways?"

Without warning, Gatsby's hands began tickling her. Trying to fight off his advances, Rebecca shrieked with laughter as he tickled her sides.

"Please, stop!" she laughed with tears in her eyes, "I beg you."

"Not until you tell me you love me," he laughed with her. Gatsby maneuvered them so that when she fell from the laughter and tickling, she fell down onto the couch. She laughed as Gatsby ticked her ruthlessly until he stopped. They were so close and Rebecca couldn't help but to notice the shift in the air. Gone was the playfulness. It had been replaced by something entirely different as Gatsby supported himself above her on his elbows. His body fit in to the cradle of her hips perfectly and without warning, he lowered his head and kissed her.

His lips were soft against hers and Rebecca quickly found any resistances against him disappear. He supported himself one arm as the back of his hand traveled down her body and over her legs. His touch brought an excitement that she could barely contain as he touched the back of her knees that had fallen open to accommodate his body's closeness to her. A second later, Gatsby broke the kiss. Their lips inches apart, she took deep breaths trying to stop the pounding in her chest. The cashmere blanket that had covered her before was tangled between them and falling off the couch, but Rebecca didn't care.

All she could look at was his blue eyes staring back at her with an expression that she'd never thought she'd see in them.

Love.

Rebecca brought her hand to run down his check. His skin was smooth and the spicy sent of his cologne only furthered her desire for him. She wanted him more than she'd ever wanted another person. In fact, Rebecca was sure that she'd never love another person in her whole life like she loved Gatsby.

"I love you," she whispered. "I love you to the stars and back and even that is not enough to full represent how much I love you, Jay."

It was all Gatsby needed to hear. He kissed her again and weeks and weeks of pent up passion between the two of them seeped into the kiss. Rebecca let herself become lost as his hand followed the path from her the back of her knee to her hip. Each touch of his only made the fire inside her burn hotter. He quickly undid the sash that he'd tied only minutes ago and she could feel the heat of his body through the fabric of her nightgown. His lips never left hers as her hands found their way to his own dress pants. She tugged at his shirt until it came free. She fumbled trying to blindly undo the buttons of his shirt for only minute.

Breaking the kiss, Gatsby's hands covered hers as he helped her to release him of his shirt and vest. His shirt had barely been tossed away when his lips found her neck and began placing kisses. Closing her eyes, Rebecca couldn't describe the feelings Gatsby was stirring inside her. Everywhere he touched and kissed burned with pleasure and the heat only continued to pool low in her belly. His hands searched for the buttons on the front of her nightgown that would undo the top of it.

Finding the first one, he unbuttoned it followed by the other three. With each button he undid, his kisses began to descend to her collar bone and he began to place feather light kisses on her sternum that made her breasts ache with need. He pulled the straps of the nightgown down and slid them off her shoulders and arms. Gatsby groaned aloud at his first glimpse of her breasts. Taking his time, he trailed his lips over her breasts, worshiping her body fully. He paid tribute to each breast equally. Her back arched with each gentle nip and suckle he gave to her smooth, sensitive skin. Her nipples ached for him and Gatsby didn't fail in his attention to them either as she threaded her fingers in his smooth hair.

With each kiss, nip and bite, Rebecca felt the heat in her pelvis grow with a urging she barely understood. Growing impatient, she began tugging at the rest of his clothes. Soon enough, they were both naked and Gatsby kissed down her rib cage and her navel. She ran her hands through his hair as he kissed every part of her skin and touched her. His finger tips followed the trail his kisses left burning on her body. Over her smooth abdomen, down over her hip, up the inside of her thigh…

Rebecca gasped when she felt Gatsby's fingertips gently touch her folds. He was gentle as he probed her and pushed a finger in, mimicking actions that he would be doing in the not so distant future. Her back arched as her eyes closed at the pleasure Gatsby brought her. It was like lightening striking her and coursing through her veins as he brought his thumb over her sensitive little pearl over and over again. Gatsby pulled himself up to kiss her long and hard as his hand constantly moved and touched her moist valley. She ran her hands down his torso to touch his hardness. His hissed in pleasure at contact and pushed into the palm of her hand.

Gatsby couldn't last much longer as she touched him and pushing Rebecca's hand away, he kissed her hard. Instinctively, she spread her legs further apart for him as Gatsby pressed his hardness against her thigh. Panting, his eyes met hers as he lined himself up and with one thrust, he was in her. Rebecca felt her eyes roll back in her head at the feeling of fullness. It felt so good and they both moaned at the sensations of him being inside her.

Gatsby paused for a moment for her to become comfortable with him, but Rebecca could see the same tension in her body echoing on his face as stopped himself from continuing. The desperate urge to feel more of him overwhelmed her as she shifted her hips against his in silent urging for him to continue. He hissed in pleasure before he pulled back and thrust into her as one of his hands trailed back down to touch her dewy pearl.

She gasped at the feeling of him inside her as she rested one of her heels on his lower back. Her nails dug into the damp flesh of his back as Gatsby picked up the pace and changed the rhythm between them. Opening her eyes, Rebecca could see pleasure written across Gatsby's face. His lips parted as he breathed heavily with each passing moment. His blue eyes hooded as his once smoothed back hair rested against his damp brow. He moaned her name like a prayer as they moved in perfect sync.

Their hips moving together, their breathing hard…

Rebecca was sure she'd never felt so good in her entire life as Gatsby touched her most sensitive nub with each frenzied thrust.

She was close as was he was as Gatsby moved faster and faster against her. She could feel the coil that was within her began to tighten until it was almost painful. In a single moment, the coil broke and she cried out as waves and waves of toe curling pleasure pulsed through her veins. She clenched her eyes shut tightly as Gatsby gave a few more hard thrusts before he cried out as well. Her whole body felt like every nerve had come alive and was humming with red, hot pleasure. Gatsby moved to rest his forehead next to her head as he tried to catch his breath. She could feel each shuddering breath he took and she couldn't stop herself from reaching out and holding him close to her.

Nuzzling her cheek against his, Rebecca didn't want the moment to end as Gatsby's hand found her and laced their fingers together. He gave a gentle squeeze as pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Closing her eyes, neither one of them said anything. There were no words to say that could possible sum up what they were both feeling in that moment.

Eventually, Gatsby moved off of her. Facing each other, they listened as the fire crackled merrily behind them. The cashmere throw was maneuvered to cover both of them as she tucked her head against his chest. Tucked next to him, Rebecca closed her eyes as she listened to the slow and steady rhythm of his heart beat. The soft, caressing feeling of his fingertips gliding up and down her spine felt wonderful against her cooling skin. In that moment, everything was perfect and she couldn't have asked for anything more.

"I love you," Gatsby whispered softly to her just before she fell asleep. "I love you more than anything in this world."

* * *

 **Saturday**

 **January 26, 1924**

"I'm so happy you could come," Jordan said as they settled into the table that had been procured for them for a late lunch. All Rebecca had to do was use her name and service was given to them without question.

Slipping down into the chair and laying her napkin in her lap, Rebecca looked over her shoulder to the man who had become her shadow in recent months since the incident with Ares Patrick. Tall with dark hair and dark eyes, Frank Porter couldn't really be described as handsome, but he was kind.

Today had been no different than any other day when Gatsby had told her that she'd have a man trailing her that worked for him. Frank was quickly becoming the man that was in charge of her security and knowing that she was being tailed by a man that Gatsby trusted with his own life brought some comfort to Rebecca. She did feel safer that something wouldn't happen to her and turning to look back at Jordan, Rebecca decided to devote all her attention into hearing what was so pressing.

"Of course," she smiled at Jordan. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world. What's so pressing that you couldn't tell me before?"

Just a Jordan began to speak, a familiar blond head of hair entered the restaurant and Rebecca couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of him. Tall and as handsome as she remembered, Rebecca felt herself staring as she watched him weave his way through the tables and approach a man she recognized as his lawyer. The man quickly stood up and shook Matthew's hand before they both sat down.

Shock coursed through her veins as she watched him. In the back of her mind, she could hear Jordan prattling on about something or rather, someone returning to New York.

"I'm so sorry," Rebecca said quickly as reality came smashing back into her. "I have to go."

Not caring that she'd been rude to Jordan Baker, she quickly pushed herself away from the table and fled the place. Her guardian must have seen her distress because the moment she was outside, Rebecca spotted the car pulling up to get her. Slipping into the back with ease, she stared out the window as the traffic passed by. Her heart still pounded in her chest as she swallowed. Matthew had told her goodbye and her heart still ached with the grief of his leaving. It made no sense that he'd come back to New York. There was no possible way he could have known about Elizabeth's death in so short a time and there was only one logical conclusion that Rebecca could come up with…Matthew had come back to her because he loved her and wanted to be with only her.

* * *

Shock was still coursing though Rebecca's veins at having seen Matthew earlier. The fact that he was back in New York left her reeling and feeling more confused than prior to his leaving. She was happy to see him, but more than ever, Jay's presence lingered in her mind. The night she'd spent with him still left her trembling and made her body warm in a way that Matthew had never been able to accomplish. Her insides were a twisted mess and she barely felt like herself.

She still loved Matthew. Rebecca could never deny that fact of life, but she was beginning to understand that maybe her feelings for Gatsby were only deeper than she'd realized. While she loved Matthew, Gatsby had always had her heart in a way Matthew never would be able to possess. It was universal truth he'd probably seen long before she had. Though she still missed him, Rebecca understood why he hadn't taken her with him to England. He knew that she loved Gatsby more than life itself before even she knew about it herself.

Walking up the familiar steps to Harper House, Rebecca smiled at the old butler, Taylor, as the man held the door open. The house was as gloomy as ever as she slipped her gloves off before handing them to a waiting maid. Gatsby walked in behind her and gave the waiting footman his own personal effects before turning and looking around the gloomy foyer.

"Mrs. Harper has asked that we leave the black," Taylor supplied quietly, "The house is to be left in mourning for the next year."

Surprise flashed through Rebecca's eyes as she stared at the older man in disbelief, "A year?"

"Mr. Carraway was in agreement as well."

"And Mr. Harper? What does he think about this?"

"I was simply told to do as Mrs. Harper and Mr. Carraway bid me to do," Taylor murmured.

Just as Rebecca was about to say another word to Taylor, Gatsby gently touched her arm and her eyes met his. Giving her wrist and gentle squeeze, Gatsby shook his head.

"Nick is absolutely heartbroken," he said softly, "He blames himself for Elizabeth's death more than anyone else. You and I know that things happen and there is no promise that things will go well during childbirth. Just give him time. Nick will come to terms with what has happened and all this black will go away."

Staring at Gatsby for a moment, Rebecca nodded and looked towards the parlor door where she knew her family sat waiting for them.

"I just don't want to see Nick swallowed up in his grief," she whispered. "He has so much to live for now and I don't want to see Henry hurt by an absent father because Nick can't move on and forgive himself for what happened."

"We have to give Nick space. It's what's best for him."

Feeling Gatsby let go of her hand, Rebecca turned and followed the butler to the door of the parlor. Letting the older man open the door, Rebecca had barely stepped into the room when she saw a familiar figure moved about the room. She could feel the air leave her lungs as she stared at the last person she wanted to see.

"Jay!" Daisy Buchanan simpered. "I'm so sorry to hear about your sister-in-law's death. How very tragic! I've been telling Nicky that I plan on staying for a while. God only knows that he'll need help with baby Harry."

"Henry," Rebecca corrected through gritted teeth. "My nephew's name is Henry."

"That's what I said," Daisy replied with a wave of her hand. "Nicky will need my help and I'm more than happy to help him."

Looking at the solemn man standing and looking out the window of Harper House, Rebecca couldn't help the near homicidal thoughts that were brewing just beneath the surface of her calm exterior. She could understand Nick's grief. He was not the only person to have lost someone they loved deeply, but bringing Daisy Buchanan into Harper House was crossing a line that Rebecca didn't think for one moment anyone could tolerate.

Turning back to Daisy and giving the other woman a tight smile, Rebecca clenched her fists tightly.

"I don't think your help will be needed. Thank you for extending it in our time of need, but Henry already has several people to take care of him."

Daisy waved her hand dismissively again, "Nicky has invited me and Pammy to stay. I've already faithfully promised him that I'd help. Don't worry so much, Miss Harper."

"Mrs. Gatsby," Gatsby quietly corrected from his place near the fire. "It will be and has always been Mrs. Gatsby, Mrs. Buchanan. I fear it's time for us to leave. We have an evening engagement."

"Surely, you can stay for a little while?" Daisy propositioned with a batted lash. "After all, we are old friends, Jay. We have so much to catch up on."

Gatsby didn't say another word as he walked to the door and held it open.

"Rebecca?" he prompted gently.

With one last fiery glance at Nick's turned back, Rebecca left the room without another glance back.

* * *

 **Wednesday**

 **January 30, 1924**

"I can't believe he'd bring that slut to live in my childhood home," Rebecca raged as she paced the personal study in Wolfsheim's home. "To look after my nephew, for God's sake!"

"Nick is now the only heir to Harper House," Wolfsheim reasoned calmly. "I'm sure that he can bring whomever he wishes to stay with him during this difficult time."

"Of all the people he could have to help him, he picks Daisy Buchanan!"

"I know why you're angry."

"Do you?"Rebecca snapped as Wolfsheim leaned forward in his chair and rested his hands on the desk. "Enlighten me. Perhaps you know my mind better than I know it myself."

Wolfsheim pushed himself up from his chair and stalked over to the fireplace. Resting elbow on the mantle, he sighed and pulled out a cigar from the box sitting close to him. Easily lighting it, he took a long drag before moving and sitting down in a chair close to the window.

"You're angry because you think that Gatsby will abandon everything with you and go back to Daisy," Wolfsheim told her quietly after he had situated himself comfortable in the chair. "I think that's your biggest fear, darling. Once you conquer that fear, that woman will have no hold over you like she does now. All this fear only gives more power to Daisy and it's setting you on a very dangerous path. Neither you nor Jay were the same person you were the summer of 1922. It's been two years…I think it's finally time that you and Jay talk about that. Confront him and he'll give you the honest truth. I am damn sure that you have nothing to fear from Daisy Buchanan."

"You don't know that," Rebecca murmured. "She's a Buchanan, you know what she's capable of."

"You're a Harper," Wolfsheim reasoned back. "Look at what you did to a Buchanan. Go home to your husband."

She stared at Wolfsheim as he stood up and walked around his desk. He reached for her hands and gently clasped them in his as a smile spread across his face.

"Go home and just go be with Jay," he told softly. "He loves you. Just let him show you."

Slipping her hands out of Wolfsheim's, Rebecca shook her head. Snow had begun to fall outside the townhouse where Wolfsheim lived with his aging grandmother. Never had she pictured the man she once considered frightening to be such a loving grandson. Affected by some kind of disorder, Wolfsheim's grandmother had good days where she remember exactly who everyone around her was, and she had bad days where she barely knew her own grandson's face.

The large townhouse was located on the Upper Eastside and despite the long drive from West Egg, Rebecca was grateful she'd come. Over the past year, she'd come to consider Wolfsheim a friend of sorts and though she doubted he'd ever see her as more than just Mrs. Gatsby, he was a valuable asset and friend to her.

"I've taken too much of your time this afternoon," she murmured to him softly before turning and smiling at him. "Have a good day."

* * *

Gatsby sat in his private study going over figures in his head. It was taking him twice as long to do it simple because he couldn't focus. His mind kept going over and over the fact that Daisy was back in New York.

He wasn't excited or thrilled. He was angry and annoyed. He could easily understand Rebecca's anger at having Daisy living with Nick in her childhood home. He didn't blame her, but he was fearful. Fearful that Daisy would undo all the progress he'd made in his relationship with Rebecca. They were so new in their understanding that it wouldn't take much for Daisy to crush that.

If there was one thing Gatsby had learned in the past year with Rebecca, it was that she was as skittish as a beaten dog. It took time for her trust others and it took even longer time for her to openly trust that person. That trust had been slowly building and throughout his recovery, Gatsby had seen little glimpses of the young woman he remembered courting. With every glimpse he saw, hope grew inside of him that someday they could put the past behind them.

The house was running a little behind schedule, but Gatsby hoped that it would be ready soon. When it came to Rebecca, words sometimes weren't good enough and he hoped beyond hope that this house would show her how serious he was about their future. New York already adored her and he adored her as well. Gatsby didn't care if it took him a lifetime to show Rebecca he loved her like no other.

He'd do whatever it took to prove that to her and he hoped that he could show her how much he loved her every day in the beautiful, new house.

A knock on the door drew him out of his thoughts and he looked up with a smile. Hoping that it was Rebecca, Gatsby called out for the person to enter. The last person in the world he wanted to see entered his study and Gatsby felt the smile drop off of his face.

"Mrs. Buchanan," he said solemnly. "I thought you were busy taking care of little Henry."

A coy smile played on Daisy's lips as she stepped further into the room. Her heels clicked softly against the wooden floors as she pushed the door closed behind her. The door never reached the frame and Gatsby was alright with that. He didn't want to be accused of being alone with Daisy. The door being cracked was perfectly alright with him.

"Henry is sleeping," Daisy told him softly as she slowly walked towards him with an exaggerated swing in her hips. "I was thinking that maybe you and I could do that catching up we talked about earlier."

"You talked about catching up," Gatsby replied in a colorless tone. "Not me. I would prefer not to catch up at all with you."

A frown marred Daisy's face for a brief second as she came to stop in front of the desk, "You wound me, Jay. After all those years spent loving each other, you're hurting me. Why are you acting this way?"

A bitter smile came to Gatsby's face as he stuck his hands in his pockets, "Love? You want to talk about love? That's just funny coming from you."

"Why?"

Walking towards the fireplace that was lit with a crackling fire, Gatsby leaned against the mantle as a humorless laugh escaped his lips.

"Stop it," Daisy demanded. "You're acting very strange and I don't care for it. Stop it at once."

Gatsby stopped laughing, but he turned and looked at her with narrow eyes.

"You wouldn't know the first thing about love if it bite you," he told her coolly. "You were never going to leave Tom for me. I nearly ruined myself and my own marriage trying to bend over backwards to be the man I thought you wanted me to be. I wasted years trying to love a woman who was never going to love me back. Granted, many of the mistakes that I made were of my own doing. I accept that responsibility, but I can't accept being the twisted, hungry bitch that is as cold as an iceberg inside. That's your responsibility."

"I might have been a bitch," Daisy said quietly as she walked towards him. "But you can't deny that you always want me."

Without another word, Daisy slammed her lips into his with a force that left Gatsby no choice, but to kiss her back as her surprisingly strong arms wrapped themselves around his neck and her fingers fisted his hair.

* * *

Rebecca clasped a hand over her mouth to prevent the cry of pain that had gathered in her throat. Turning away just as quickly, she fled down the hallway. Blindly, Rebecca found her room and turned the door knob. Not caring anymore, she tossed the lace robe aside and yanked the diamond earrings she wore out. Collapsing down onto her vanity seat, she sobbed into her hands.

She'd taken Wolfsheim's advice and after having wandered through Central Park for an afternoon, she'd decided to just go home and seduce Gatsby. All she wanted was just him and after everything, she'd truly believed that Daisy was a figment of the past. A horrible memory that would fade with time until it was nothing but faded memory that barely played right in her head. A voice in her head taunted her that she was the second best again. Jay didn't want her anymore now that he had another opportunity to be with Daisy.

The mere thought of being Gatsby's tossed away seconds brought a choking sob from her lips. All the hope that had been slowly coming to life inside her died.

Why would he want her, when he could have Daisy?

Picking up the closest bottle of perfume, Rebecca threw it as hard as she could. It shattered against the wall and a fury took over her unlike anything else she'd ever felt before. Smashing and breaking everything in sight, Rebecca didn't stop until every last thing in her dressing room had been destroyed.

Yanking open the last drawer of the vanity, she stopped seeing the medium sized glass bottle. Tilly had always given her such a small dose for when her monthly pain came. Only a few drops and the pain would lessen to the point where she could function actively. Picking the bottle up and holding it up to the closest light, a twisted smile came to Rebecca's lips. The bottle was full and unopened. It was more than enough to do what she had in mind.

Ringing the servants' bell, Rebecca paced the room as she waited for her new maid to come up. She barely cared that she was walking over broken glass. The young girl showed up and she looked around in shock.

"Ma'am?" she questioned nervously.

"Go get my car ready and wake up one of the drivers. I need them to take me somewhere."

"Should I grab you a coat as well?"

Rebecca nodded and the young maid quickly found a warm coat along with shoes for her to wear. Slipping the bottle into her coat pocket, Rebecca quickly left her rooms and Gatsby House.

* * *

The drive to Ashby House in East Egg wasn't very long, but the whole drive, Rebecca kept comparing her dwindling options. Wolfsheim wouldn't help her; he believed that Jay was in love with her. After seeing Daisy and Gatsby kissing, Rebecca doubted Jay loved her in anyway. Her parents were still too wrapped up in their grief to care about her or her problems. Edward would ignore the problem anyways and Katherine would tell her to just stand still and look pretty.

Rebecca absolutely refused to even go to Nick in any capacity. He was the one who had openly agreed to letting Daisy stay with him at Harper House and as far as Rebecca was concerned, Nick was not allowed anywhere near her or she wouldn't be responsible for the damage she inflicted on him. She didn't care that he was overcome with grief for Elizabeth; Rebecca knew that her sister was already rolling in her grave about having the slut, Daisy Buchanan caring for Henry.

A small smile came to Rebecca's lips as she thought about the words "caring" and "Daisy Buchanan". It was almost like an oxymoron considering that Daisy could barely take care of her own daughter. Rebecca knew that the only reason Daisy had left Paris was because the money she'd been living off of must have run out. Now, the sluttish Daisy had returned hoping to con everyone into giving her money or something. Nick might have been blinded with grief, but she wasn't. Rebecca could see everything clearly and in that clarity, she could only see Matthew as the best option.

The comfort of Matthew was what she wanted and more than anything, she just wanted him. When it came to Jay Gatsby, she was done. Matthew had left her with a broken heart and yes, Jay had put it back together and yes, the man had taken a bullet for her, but Rebecca couldn't compete with Daisy Buchanan any longer. Daisy was a ghost that would haunt her for the rest of her life, but Rebecca couldn't bring herself to care any longer. Seeing that kiss in the library between Gatsby and Daisy…she was confused and hurt and more than anything, she was done. She had let Gatsby play his games with her heart for far too long and she needed more than anything to end it because it would be the death of her.

When the Rolls Royce pulled into the circle drive of Ashby House, Rebecca was grateful to see that Matthew was in residence. His butler opened her car door and after a few short questions, she knew he was in his private study. Not caring that she was dressed in a lacy nightgown underneath her coat, Rebecca quickly took the stairs to the second floor of the House and found Matthew in the study with ease. Not bothering to knock, she threw the door open. He looked up at her with surprise before she moved into the room and closed the door behind her.

"Why did you come back?" Rebecca demanded without preamble as she leaned against the door, "Why are you here? Please, tell me because I need to know. Did you come back for me? You couldn't have possibly come back for Elizabeth. She died the night you returned. You haven't even come to see my parents and you completely ignored the funeral. She was friend in life and I know she would simply overlook your gross error. I will forgive you for it too, but you have to tell me why you came back here."

Matthew stood up from behind his desk slowly and looked at her with a pained expression, "I came back sell Ashby House. Not for you, and not for Elizabeth. I am sorry about her death. She will be missed by all."

"You're selling? You're selling Ashby House? Why? Why would you do that? Are you in trouble? Do you need money? You love this house and you've always told me that. Why are you selling it?"

"I do love this house," Matthew admitted. "It's not that I need the money or I am dissatisfied with it, I'm simply selling the house because I'm not coming to America after this. I'm severing all ties and when I leave here at the end of the week, that's it."

"You're going back to England? Take me back with you," Rebecca begged Matthew tearfully. "Please, take me with you. I can't bare this anymore. Jay, he's…he's with Daisy again. I saw them kissing in the library and I can't suffer this anymore. Please, take me with you. You left me once and it broke my heart, please, don't break it again. Matthew, I can't live like this anymore."

"Darling," he began, but stopped. The wire on his desk came alive with short, shrill rings. Rebecca turned away from him and collapsed down upon the window seat closest to her. The gardens were full of freshly fallen snow that reflected with the sun to create the glittering illusion of thousands of diamonds. Matthew spoke to whoever was on the other end in low tones and she didn't catch what the conversation was about nor did she care.

All Rebecca knew was that Daisy would always be a shadow in her life that she could never escape. It was foolish of her to ever think that Jay Gatsby would and could ever let Daisy go. Seeing them kissing in the library was the only proof that she needed or cared to know about. Rebecca turned her head when she heard the conversation come to an end; Matthew was leaning forward on the desk with a sorrowful look on his face.

"I can't take you back to England with me, Rebecca. I'm engaged to be married to the young daughter of a Duke. My mother made the arrangements and I agreed thinking that maybe it would help me to get over you and I'm so sorry," he murmured to her softly. "My driver will take you back to Gatsby House. I know that nothing makes sense anymore and that you're hurting, but please understand that you're grieving and hurting. Running away won't fix the pain you're feeling. It will pass, I promise. We both know that we are not meant to be and yes, it hurts. We still have our memories to keep us warm at night—"

Slipping her hand into her coat pocket, Rebecca clutched the bottle. Matthew had made her decision for her and standing slowly, she looked at him sadly.

"You still love me," she whispered tearfully. "I wish more than anything you had told me you loved me before the war. I won't be seeing you again, will I? You're abandoning me again."

"No," Matthew said softly. "This is goodbye."

"Not goodbye," Rebecca told him. "Maybe I will get to love you for an entire lifetime in the next life. I can't believe that this is the end. I won't believe that this is the end. I can't say goodbye to you. I'm sorry."

Walking to the door, Rebecca slipped out into the hallway without another word. Matthew didn't try to stop her and with each step, her heart broke a little more. Her car was indeed parked outside and with the help of the driver, Rebecca slipped into the back seat. Not bothering to hide her tears, she turned as the car pulled away from Ashby House. Matthew stood in his study window watching her, but he turned away after only a few seconds.

Taking the bottle of laudanum out of her pocket, Rebecca stared at the warning on the back against drinking the whole bottle.

"Death may occur," she murmured softly, "How fitting."


	19. XVIII: Young & Beautiful (Part I)

**Part XVIII: Young & Beautiful (Part I) **

_"...Hot summer nights, mid July_  
 _When you and I were forever wild_  
 _The crazy days, city lights_  
 _The way you'd play with me like a child_

 _Will you still love me_  
 _When I'm no longer young and beautiful?_  
 _Will you still love me_  
 _When I got nothing but my aching soul?_  
 _I know you will, I know you will_  
 _I know that you will_  
 _Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful..."_

~ "Young & Beautiful" - Lana Del Rey

 **Wednesday**

 **January 30, 1924**

Gatsby paced the short distance in front of Wolfsheim's fireplace. He was barely listening to the other man going on and on about business. It was late and he didn't appreciate the late night call Wolfsheim had delivered to him about some business opportunity that seemed too good to be true. What was upsetting him the most though, was the fact that he hadn't been able to find Rebecca before he'd left to see Wolfsheim. She hadn't been in her rooms and her maid had looked terrified to the bone as she nervously answered his questions. It was obvious to him that the maid was covering for Rebecca, he just couldn't figure out what the scared girl was lying about. The sound of Wolfsheim's throat clearing drew Gatsby out of his thoughts as he looked at the man he'd long since considered to be a brother.

"Am I boring you? I just thought you'd thrilled about the business deal. Not to mention that no one suspects murder. Unless, this is boring to you," Wolfsheim barked with raised brows as he held up the New York Times and the front page article detailing the gruesome discovery of Ares Patrick's body.

The police had no suspects on who had killed the visiting southern, but Gatsby was almost positive that someone in the NYPD was being gagged. There was absolutely no mention of exactly who Ares was and what he was supposedly doing in New York City. Everything had simply been chalked up to Ares simply being in a horrific car accident. It was a simple case of Ares being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

If only the world knew the truth.

"No," Gatsby said quietly as he yanked the paper out of Wolfsheim's hands and tossed it down onto the chair closest to him. "I'm just trying to figure out why I am here. It sounds to me like you have a business deal that is too good to miss. Sign the papers already and let me go home."

"I already did. I thought you'd want to know that you were in the clear of Patrick's murder."

"In that case, I have to go."

Just as he turned and went to leave, a pearl button caught his eye on the floor. Bending and picking it up, Gatsby studied it for a moment before turning to Wolfsheim.

"A new lady friend?" he questioned with a sly grin.

"Probably from your wife," Wolfsheim replied without missing a beat. "She was here earlier. Ranting and raving about having Daisy Buchanan anywhere near her or her family. I can't say that I really blame her. Mrs. Buchanan isn't a particular favorite of mine or anyone else's."

"What did you tell her?" Gatsby asked as he pocketed the pearl button and made a mental note to turn the button over to his valet to give to Rebecca's maid.

"I told her to go home and talk to you about it. She left her calmly, but I think something else was going on. She's was too calm and too collected. One minute, she's ranting and so angry that I thought she would have broken something and the next moment, she was calm like nothing had happened."

"What time did this happen?"

Wolfsheim stood and shrugged, "Several hours ago, around about six o'clock or so. It was just before dinner. You haven't seen her since?"

Nodding at Wolfsheim's words, Gatsby left the townhouse without another word. Barely acknowledging the young, new driver that had just been hired, Jay slid into the back of his car and took the button out of his pocket. Staring at it, he couldn't help but to wonder what had been going through Rebecca's mind. The way Wolfsheim had described her behavior sounded erratic and clearly, something was off. Pocketing the pearl button, Gatsby promised himself that he would find out exactly what was wrong when he reached home. It didn't matter what he had to do, he would do whatever it took to make sure that she was alright.

* * *

Despite the lateness of the hour, Gatsby was surprised at how awake his household seemed to be as his car passed through the gates. Normally, lights and candles began to dim around nine in the evening, but tonight many lights were still shining brightly from the house. Crawley greeted him at the door with his usual formality as a footman assisted him in taking off his outerwear.

"Did Mrs. Gatsby come down to have dinner?" Gatsby inquired as he slipped his hat and gloves off.

"I haven't seen Mrs. Gatsby all evening," Crawley replied stiffly as he accepted the articles of clothing. Gatsby paused in unbuttoning his coat and stared at his butler. Swallowing, he tried to hide his worry before he spoke again. Tension had been building in his body since leaving Wolfsheim's townhouse. Something felt off to him, Gatsby just couldn't figure out what was wrong.

"You haven't seen her all evening," Gatsby repeated carefully. "Has her maid? Has that new girl been up to help Mrs. Gatsby with a bath or to change at all?"

Crawley was silent for a moment before shaking his head, "No, Mrs. Gatsby has not rung for her maid all evening. She did leave the house briefly before you left, sir."

Crawley's words left a knot in Gatsby's stomach as he slowly finished unbuttoning his heavy outer jacket. Passing the coat off to his valet, Blackburn, who had appeared from seemingly nowhere, Gatsby moved towards the staircase. Calling over his shoulder for Crawley to have the new maid sent up to see him, Gatsby made his way towards Rebecca's rooms. He'd seen light from her rooms outside and he knew she wasn't asleep. It was one of the many things that he'd learned about her, Rebecca couldn't sleep at night with lights around her. Reaching the doors to her sitting room, Gatsby knocked gently.

"Rebecca?" he called through the door. Silence was the only answer he received and trying to open the door, Gatsby was surprised to find the lock engaged. Knocking again, Gatsby called her name. No response came as the new maid came scrambling down the hallway with Crawley.

"Mr. Gatsby, sir," Crawley said. "Anna as you requested."

"When was the last time you spoke with your mistress?" he asked without preamble. He didn't care if the young girl thought he was being rude or if he scared her. Something wasn't sitting quite right inside of his chest and he couldn't help but to worry.

"S-she came back from seein' Mr. Wolfsheim, Mr. Gatsby, sir," the young girl choked. "I helped her to change and she sent me away."

"And?" Gatsby pressed with frustration. "Have you seen her since then?"

"Yes, she called me maybe a half hour after that. She destroyed her dressin' room, sir. I don't know what happened, but somethin' upset her. She wanted to leave the house right away. I don't know where she went, sir, but when Mrs. Gatsby came back she was very quiet and I think she'd been cryin', sir. She threw things at me until I left her alone. She told me she didn't want to be bothered, at all. I haven't tried to go back into the rooms since, sir."

Looking from the distressed maid to the door, Gatsby felt his heart drop. Whatever had happened, Rebecca wasn't in her best frame of mind. Between Elizabeth's death and Daisy's return, it seemed the universe was haunting her in the worst possible way. Knocking on the door again, Gatsby waited for her voice to float through the door. He didn't care what she'd say. He just wanted to hear her voice. Looking impatiently at Crawley, Gatsby jutted his chin out towards the butler. Silent communication passed between them and the older man scurried off with the maid to find the housekeeper. Only two people had complete sets of keys to every door in the house and the housekeeper was one of them.

Rebecca held the other set.

Knocking on the door again, Gatsby called out for Rebecca, but no reply came. He persisted in knocking until the housekeeper showed up with the master key. Quickly snatching the key from the older woman, Gatsby unlocked the door and pushed the door open. Rebecca's sitting room looked like a hurricane had violently swept through it. Stepping around the broken glass on the floor, Gatsby barely registered the damage of his wife's violent temper. He didn't care about the broken things. They could easily be replaced. Gatsby was far more worried that she'd hurt herself because of all the broken glass or something worse. Easily moving through the rooms that made up Rebecca's apartments, Gatsby found her collapsed on the floor of her dressing room. Back against the wall, Rebecca stared blankly at the mirror shattered on the floor not far from her. It was easy to see small scraps and cuts on her body, especially her lower legs and feet.

Slowly approaching her, Gatsby felt his foot bump into something heavy. Looking down, his eyes widened seeing an empty bottle. The shape was unmistakable and the name easily visible. Picking it up, Gatsby stared at it only for a second before instantly dropping the bottle. In a flash, he crouched down and grabbed her upper arms. Giving Rebecca a good shake, Gatsby could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he yelled for Crawley to call Doctor Weston.

Rebecca barely registered his words or his touch as she continued to stare. The only thing that moved was her eyes and they shifted to a worn picture of her younger sister.

"How much did you drink?" Gatsby demanded desperately as he gave her another shake. "How much did you take? Rebecca?"

She didn't answer him, but continued to stare at the picture of her younger sister sitting on top of the small table not far from her. It was the only thing in the entire room that hadn't been destroyed or touched.

"Rebecca!"

His yell drew her out of her trance as she looked at him. Tears formed in her eyes as she took shallow breaths. She looked frightened, but Gatsby doubted she was as scared as he was in that moment. He was desperately trying to keep calm and not panic, but the panic was quickly overcoming any calmness he'd been trying to project out or feel.

"How much did you take?" Gatsby demanded again. "Please, how much did you take?"

"I-I-I…"

"How much?" he asked again giving her a shake. "How much? Rebecca?"

"None," she cried out before breaking down and sobbing. "My hands were shaking and I-I-I dropped the bottle. It all spilt on the floor."

Her shoulders shook with grief as Gatsby drew her close to him. Adrenaline mixed with relief pumped through his veins as he tucked her close to his chest. The mere thought of losing her was enough to cause his heart to race dangerously fast with worry and grief. Sliding down to the floor, Gatsby brought her whole body close to him as Rebecca sobbed.

Wrapping his arms around, he did his best to comfort her, but there wasn't much he could do. The realization left Gatsby feeling more helpless than ever as he rested his chin on top of her head. Murmuring to her over and over again that everything would be alright, he glanced at the door way hoping that help would come soon. He'd sent Crawley to retrieve Doctor Weston and he hoped that the doctor would come quickly.

Rebecca's sobs slowly ebbed away into hiccups and tears. She felt so thin and weak in his arms that Gatsby mentally berated himself for her condition. It was hard to not blame himself as he stood and lifted her into his arms. Elizabeth's death had left Rebecca overwhelmed and he was heartbroken that she'd rather end her life than talk to him…talk to anyone. Settling Rebecca onto the bed, Gatsby sunk down onto a knee in front of her as she sat on the edge. Her blank expression scared him more than anything and her cold hands frightened him. He couldn't help but to wonder if she'd lied about how much medicine she'd taken.

Was she dying in that moment and he didn't know?

Taking her frigid fingers in his hand, Gatsby did his best to warm her. The action was fruitless and instead, he quickly grabbed a quilted blanket from the chest at the end of her bed. Wrapping the blanket around her, Gatsby sat down on the bed next to her. Rebecca's skin still felt cold to the touch and the dead look in her eyes hadn't left.

"Everything is going to be alright," he murmured to her softly before he pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "I promise."

She pulled away from him and for the first time, her eyes met his.

"Why?" Rebecca whispered brokenly as a single tear escaped down her cheek, "Why did you kiss her? Am I never going to be enough for you? Why is it that everyone I love abandons me? What have I done that is so undesirable?"

Gatsby felt all the air in his chest leave as the doctor arrived. The heartbroken look in Rebecca's eyes would haunt him for years to come. Weston quickly had Blackburn and Crawley forcefully remove him from Rebecca's room as her maid tended to her and followed the doctor's instructions. Forced into the hallway, Gatsby felt almost out of body as he mechanically told Crawley he'd be in the library waiting for the doctor when Weston was done. His feet moved at their own accord and Gatsby could barely remember anything except Rebecca's haunting words as they replayed over and over again in his head. She'd seen him kissing Daisy from the doorway.

Rebecca had been the flash of white that he'd seen from the corner of his eye.

* * *

Gatsby paced the library anxiously as he waited for news from the doctor. His heart hadn't stopped pounding in his chest since he'd found Rebecca. The images he'd seen would forever be frozen in his mind. Turning and pacing back, he rubbed the back of his neck and hoped that she would be alright. Every part of him wanted to believe that she was telling the truth, but he didn't know what to believe. He was so lost in his thoughts that Gatsby nearly jumped when there was a knock on the door.

Rushing to it, he eagerly opened the door and ushered the doctor in.

"How is she?" he asked with preamble as he stared anxiously at the man. "Is she alright?"

"She's resting now," Weston said quietly as he slipped his spectacles off his nose and pinched the bridge. "I don't think that she drank anything from the bottle. The stain on her rug that has formed is quite large. I believe her story that she dropped the bottle. That being said, I do think that someone should be with her at all times in the coming days. I doubt she will try anything, but to be safe…you understand."

"I understand," Gatsby replied in an equally hushed tone. "Please, keep this between us. I don't want or need the whole of New York having a party over her attempted suicide."

Weston nodded before shaking Gatsby's hand. Leaving him alone in the library, Gatsby barely sat down when the door was slammed open and an upset Nick walked into the room.

"Is she alright?" he demanded. "I just heard the news from Wolfsheim. I came over here as soon as I could. Is Rebecca alright?"

A scowl crossed Gatsby's face when he heard Wolfsheim's name. Rarely did anything escape his partner, but sometimes Gatsby wished Wolfsheim would keep to himself. In fact, Gatsby wanted to know exactly how Wolfsheim had found out about the whole situation. Tonight was one of those nights that he wanted to strangle the older man, but Gatsby stood wearily and nodded. Reaching out for a tumble and the decanter of liquor, he poured himself a small dose before tipping the contents into his mouth and pouring more into the glass.

"She's alright," he confirmed after a few seconds of silence. "Rebecca did try to…kill herself, but she's alright."

The words were hard to pronounce and the reality that he could have come home to a dead wife scared him in ways that he'd never been scared before. Turning and facing Nick, Gatsby set the tumbler down and slipped his hands into his pockets.

"Jay, I'm so sorry," Nick started, but stopped as Gatsby raised a hand.

"I have one request. That's all I ask of you and what I want is very simple. You need to keep your psychotic cousin away from me. You sure as hell keep her away from my wife," he said angrily to a shocked Nick. "You knew exactly what would happen when you brought that bitch into my wife's childhood home."

"I wasn't thinking–"

"No, you sure as hell weren't. Jesus Bleeding Christ, if my sister-in-law could see the woman you have supposedly taking care of her son she'd probably die from a stroke instead of dying from childbirth."

Gatsby regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It didn't matter that Rebecca had been the one who had nearly drunken the laudanum. In his book, Daisy's presence had been the one little thing that had final pushed her over the edge and that was unforgivable to him.

"I have a home in Westchester County," Gatsby said quietly. "It's out of the city and private. God only knows that Rebecca needs both in this moment. You're not the only one nursing a broken heart, Nick. I suggest you get your head screwed on straight because you have a son to take care of now and when I bring Rebecca back from Westchester, if Daisy is still with you, I don't know if I can still be your friend and I don't know if I will be able to let my wife see your son with that heartless bitch around."

"Daisy is a lot of things, Jay," Nick breathed as he sat down in the closest chair. "She's also my cousin. She's my cousin and she has no place to go."

Picking the tumbler back up and pouring more amber liquid, Gatsby casually walked towards Nick before he gave him an emotionless smile, "All I have to do is point out to Edward Harper that Henry is his _mother's_ son. If you don't understand that, let me explain. Elizabeth's last testament doesn't name you exactly as her heir. In fact, nothing ties you to the Harper fortune except for Henry. All Edward and Katherine Harper have to do is go before a judge and explain the circumstances. You haven't been a father to that child since the day he was born. You and I both know that you haven't even held that little boy since his mother died. It's going to be hard to sell a judge that you're a good father and capable father when that judge is only going to see is a heartbroken and depressed father with a very self absorbed, homeless, husband-less cousin who can't even take care of her own daughter. In contrast, that judge is going to see two, very wealthy grandparents, eager and more than willing to care for their daughter's son along with a doting aunt and uncle who will do everything in their power to make sure that little boy has everything in this life he could ever need or want."

"Are you threatening me?" Nick asked as he stood to his feet shakily.

"I am promising you," Gatsby growled. "I am promising you what will happen if Daisy is still here. She's like a poison and considering that you've always been a champion for Rebecca's happiness, I am more than shocked that you'd ever agree to letting that bitch live in _my wife's_ childhood home. That is the greatest insult you could ever sling at her, Nick. My butler will see you out. Have a good day, Mr. Carraway."

Without another word, Gatsby turned and left Nick standing alone in the library. They'd always been friends, but he couldn't be friends with a man who would willing let Daisy enter their lives again after she'd been exiled. Quietly opening the door to Rebecca's rooms, Gatsby paused in the sitting room and took a deep breath. Calming himself and steadying his body, he went back to her bedside. She was far too fragile to worry about the world around her. Some would call him overprotective, but Gatsby was about to wrap her in a safe blanket and he wasn't going to let anything penetrate that blanket.

Until he knew that Rebecca was stronger, he wasn't going to let any worries or fears plague her if he could help it.

* * *

 **Thursday**

 **February 8, 1924**

Fairview Park was secluded away from the world. The large house was tucked away behind trees and far off the main roads to the city. Situated in Westchester County, the private little gem had been a house that Gatsby had simply snatched up from an auction. He'd barely looked twice at the damned house before paying a private company to update everything. Extensively redone, the six bedroom house had been redecorated and the grounds redesigned on very little money. Gatsby doubted the house could ever be described as a cottage. It resembled a small manor with its gated drive and large gardens. Horses grazed in nearby fields and the closest neighbor was more than a mile away.

A true country house, Gatsby couldn't help but to feel relief as the Rolls Royce pulled into the drive. Though the house was a gem, it was a drive from the city and travelling hadn't been something Gatsby had wanted to truly do with Rebecca in her condition. She'd been silent the whole way and it had worried him more than anything. The only time she'd acknowledged him was when he'd asked her if she was warm enough and only then, Rebecca had only nodded. The entire trip had passed and all she'd done was stare out the window.

Pulling into the circle of the drive, Gatsby nearly sighed in relief as the automobile came to a complete stop. Outside, staff quickly moved around as they quickly prepared to meet their master and mistress for the first time. It was Gatsby's own first time coming to the house and he only hoped that Rebecca could find some peace in the quiet house.

His valet, Blackburn, quickly opened the door and Gatsby slipped out. Only nodding at the man, he quickly walked around the car to the other side. Brighton had opened Rebecca's door, but she hadn't stirred.

Ignoring the staff's curious glances at the car, Gatsby used his body to shield Rebecca away from the bitter coldness that had seemed to grip New York tightly only a few days prior. Blankets were tucked around her for the journey and two heated bricks had aided in keep her warm. Passing the two bricks to the butler, Mr. Gibson, Gatsby moved to push the blankets back when a small gloved hand reached out and grabbed the arm of his own thick jacket.

"Make them go away," Rebecca whispered to him in an almost childlike voice. "Please, make them go. I don't want to see them."

Her first words in almost two weeks, Gatsby could barely hear anything else. The sound of his own voice issuing the order sounded foreign to his ears. Mr. Gibson quickly made the staff dispensed and they went scuttling off like birds chasing worms. Within minutes, the only people standing in the drive were those who were needed. Gently pulling back the blankets that he'd tucked around her earlier before leaving Gatsby House in West Egg, he helped her to shift her legs around so she could stand. Still weak, Rebecca looked like small twig wrapped in clothing that was far too big for her. She'd barely stood up when Gatsby decided he'd carry her to the house.

Lifting her up with ease, he mentally thanked whatever God existed out there that he no longer needed his cane to move about. Mr. Gibson quickly got the door for Gatsby as the snow began blowing violently. Inside the house, warmth seeped into every part of him and despite all the extra blankets that they'd had and the warming bricks, Gatsby couldn't believe how cold he'd been. In his arms, Rebecca gave a violent shiver as she pressed her face into his neck. Not bothering to look around, Gatsby knew that the master bedroom in the house was upstairs. A single grand staircase wrapped around the wall past the foyer and the marble floors complimented the dark wood accents.

The drawing room, library, and private study were all on the first floor along with a private ladies sitting room that was meant to be used by the mistress of the house. The bedrooms were all on the second floor and the kitchen and servants quarters were below. Any other day, Gatsby would have been more than happy to show Rebecca each room and let her explore to her heart's content. When she was better, Gatsby had already planned on her decorating the house to her tastes. The money had been sitting aside for a while now untouched.

Taking care, Gatsby climbed the steps to the second floor with both the housekeeper and butler on his heels. Blackburn had slipped away more than likely slipped away to take care of their luggage and see to anything that needed to be corrected before he, Gatsby, found it was wrong.

The master bedroom was the last door at the end of the corridor. Double doors opened to an elegant sitting room and through an archway, Gatsby could see a large bed. Mr. Gibson quickly tended to the fire that was burning in the hearth. Even though he did like the modern inventions of heating, Gatsby still preferred to have some fires burning in case the heat gave out for some unknown reason. Taking note of only the large mantle above the fireplace, Gatsby let the housekeeper flutter about. Easing Rebecca down to sit on the edge of the bed, Gatsby looked about the bedroom.

Their room was large and the soft colors on the wall were calming. It was easy to see the French influence in the house. The furniture looked to be decorated and beautifully made. Each piece looked handmade and antique. A four poster bed was situated in the middle of the bedroom with drapes that had been pulled back. Rebecca shifted on the bed slowly. She looked stiff and in pain. He watched her struggle to simply take off her gloves for a moment before moving to sit beside her. Dark circle marred the skin under her eyes and without a word he gently slipped the gloves from her hands with ease. He helped her with her shoes next and coat before helping her to stand.

The housekeeper had gotten a bed pan ready to keep their feet warm from the biting cold that still managed to get inside. She slipped the pan in between the sheets before she turned down the fresh covers on the bed. All the while, Gatsby watched as Rebecca's near catatonic state returned. The small flicker of hope that had been burning on the inside since she'd spoken to him stayed though. After dismissing the house keeper and butler, Gatsby delicately removed her dress and helped her into a nightgown that had been laid out prior to their arrival.

Once he'd finished buttoning the last button, he didn't know what to do. It was clear from the weariness written across Rebecca's face that she would lie down before dinner. The drive out to Westchester had been long, but the frigid weather and her frailness hadn't made the journey comfortable. Helping her to slip between the sheets, Gatsby made sure the bed pan wasn't too close to Rebecca's feet to burn her. Tucking the blankets around her like she was a child, he pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Everything will get better," he vowed to her softly. "We'll be staying here for a few months. You love the gardens at home and I think you'll love the gardens here in spring time even more. Do you need anything else?"

Rebecca gave him no reply before she turned her head and looked out at the blizzard that had seemed to engulf the afternoon sky. The snow swirled violently outside and Gatsby couldn't help but to wonder if his heart had been acting the same way. Unconsciously, he reached for her hand and she let him take it. Another small flame of hope came alive in his chest as she loosely held on to his fingers. The metal of her wedding rings felt cold against his skin as he looked down to see his own wedding band nestled against Rebecca's pale skin.

"I never meant to kiss her," Gatsby told her softly without thinking. "Daisy, she kissed me. If you'd stood in the doorway for only a second longer you would have seen me push her away. Mrs. Buchanan is gone, Rebecca. She's not coming back and I promise you that never do you have to worry about another woman in my life. You're the only person that I want."

He'd hoped that his words would register somewhere inside, but Gatsby was quickly losing faith as Rebecca continued to stare out the window. She looked so tired and worn in his eyes. Gone was the vibrant young woman he'd grown to love. He wanted her back and yet, Gatsby wasn't sure she existed anymore. He often forgot how truly young Rebecca was to the world. She carried herself like a woman twice her age, but she wasn't even twenty-five.

So many people had died around her and death had robbed her of any lasting innocence. The loss of two sisters had shattered her and Gatsby truly didn't know if it was possible to fix her. He didn't want the woman in front of him to stay. Rebecca had locked herself away from him and he didn't want that. He wanted her laughing and smiling with him. He wanted her eyes to light up with the joy he'd promised himself that he'd bring her. He didn't know if that woman was coming back, but Gatsby did know one thing.

No matter what came in life, he'd be there to take care of her. Even if she remained in the catatonic, he'd take care of her. Pressing a kiss to her temple, Gatsby stood up and tucked the blankets around her one last time. Ringing the bell and waiting, he watched her from the doorway of the connecting sitting room. A middle aged woman appeared minutes later and she gave him a slight smile.

"Sir?"

Gatsby only had to look once at Mrs. Gates to know the woman had a kind spirit and soul. A widow, she'd come at the recommendation of Wolfsheim to be a companion. Rebecca didn't need a maid at the moment, she needed someone to simply sit with her and let her know that she was never alone. In truth, Gatsby had hired to woman mostly out of fear. The first week after Rebecca had attempted to kill herself had left him feeling more fear than a soldier on a battle field.

Leaving her side hadn't been an option to him and yet, it had also become unrealistic for him to constantly be at her side. Wolfsheim had screened several people as a companion for Rebecca. Gatsby knew that the other man would never admit it, but Wolfsheim had a soft spot for Rebecca. Her actions had scared them both and Gatsby knew that Wolfsheim carried the same fear he did. Not to the same degree, but he knew that they were both afraid of Rebecca trying again and actually being successful at ending her life.

"I have some business that I need to do," Gatsby told Mrs. Gates quietly as he watched Rebecca shift to her side and stare out the windows. "Please, sit with her. If she's hungry or thirsty, just have a maid deliver a tray. The staff below has already been informed of Mrs. Gatsby's likes and dislikes. If you have any problems with the staff speak with Mr. Gibson directly. He'll know what to do. That will be all."

His words lingered between them and Gatsby knew that he was supposed to quit the room. He knew he was supposed to leave and finish business that he'd been putting off for far too long. As much as he wanted to move, Gatsby couldn't. He didn't want to leave her. He didn't want to leave and something happen. Only a select few knew what had happened and his valet and Mr. Crawley had already informed the staff of Fairview Park of his expectations. Sharp objects had been removed from every room and the staff knew that Mrs. Gatsby had recently lost both her sisters tragically.

Gatsby had already warned all his staff in all his homes that gossiping wasn't permitted. If anyone was caught even trying to spread gossip or sell a story to the press, they would be dismissed without a final pay and a reference. The consequences were harsh, but Gatsby was committed to protecting his privacy and Rebecca's. All he wanted was for her to be safe and he didn't care what it cost.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he nearly jumped from the contact. Turning, he met Mrs. Gates' soft, understanding eyes. She knew the truth of what had happened and she gave him a comforting smile.

"If you want," she said softly. "I'm sure you could work here. The desk by the window is large and this sitting room has very good lightening. We could simply close the door part of the way. You wouldn't have to leave her."

Her words echoed around him and as tempting as it was, Gatsby shook his head. Rebecca needed sleep and the only way she would get the rest she so desperately needed was to have quiet. The sounds of him writing and speaking on the telephone wouldn't help her to rest and being so close to her wouldn't help his focus.

Taking a step away from Mrs. Gates, Gatsby nodded at her silently before leaving. He could almost hear Rebecca's light voice in his head telling him that he was almost being rude to the woman by not speaking. Going to the door and slipping out into the hallway, Gatsby quickly went to the private study on the first floor. Large, with many bookshelves and a handsome fireplace, the room was decidedly masculine with dark wood and dark reds, browns and greens.

Sinking down into the chair behind the desk, Gatsby could feel his own exhaustion sinking in. The past two weeks had been so long and so tiring. Forcing his spine to be rigid, Gatsby shook off the tiredness that threatened to overcome him as he reached for the stack of unopened letters and telegrams that he'd neglected far too long. Opening the first one, he devoted himself to the task of making sure he was caught up on all his business before dinner.

* * *

 **Saturday**

 **February 16, 1924**

"Tell me about what happened."

Gatsby nearly ripped the page he'd been writing on hearing Rebecca's soft voice. It had been a little over a week since they'd arrived at Fairview Park and though she'd said some words, Gatsby was sure that her most recent sentence had been her longest in that time.

"Tell me about what happened between you and Daisy Buchanan the night that…"

Rebecca trailed off as he stood and capped his fountain pen. Dressed for dinner, her soft curls had been fashionably pulled back at the base of her neck and the dress she wore brushed the ground where she stood. A plum color, Rebecca's snow white complexion looked flawless as she played with the buttons on the inside wrist on one of her gloves she wore. A small comb in her hair glittered and Gatsby felt the hope that he'd been burning deep inside brighten more.

"She came looking to go over old memories," Gatsby said without hesitation. "She was under the belief that I wanted to walk down memory lane with her. I quickly assured her that I didn't and I left to see Wolfsheim minutes later."

Rebecca slowly glided towards the large glass window seat near his desk and sat down. She looked out into the night and shook her head.

"That explains why she was in your house," she replied quietly. "It doesn't explain the kiss."

Gatsby didn't bother to correct her that the house was no longer his. The sale of the manor had already gone through and as they spoke, a team of maids and footmen was busily packing away items as workers prepared to move the boxes later in the month once the weather had changed for the better. The new estate that he'd purchased in East Egg was almost finished and by the end of spring or the beginning of summer, Rebecca would be back at home. Every decision on the interior of the house would be hers. She'd already unknowingly designed the grounds and all that was left was, God willing, to fill the house was many years of laughter and joy.

"You would have me believe that she kissed you unwillingly?" Rebecca asked him as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"That is the truth," he told her as he quickly stood and took a handkerchief out of pocket. Sitting down next to her, he gently brushed a loose curl behind her ear. Her fingers tugged at the linen as she twisted the handkerchief between her fingers with worry. She gazed out into the raging storm outside, but said nothing.

Minutes passed and Gatsby couldn't bring himself to move away from her. Gently covering her hands with his, he brushed his thumb back and forth over her glove. He wasn't sure how much physical contact Rebecca would accept. She'd become as jittery as a skittish cat and he didn't want to drive her away. She'd spoken to him more in one day than she had in weeks. He silently made up his mind to let Rebecca come to him by herself. God only knew that she'd been patient with him for years. He could exercise the same patience for her.

"Why were you visiting Wolfsheim?" she asked softly.

"We had business to discuss…an opportunity that would be too good to pass up."

Staring at her, Gatsby could see exhaustion in her eyes. Despite the fact that they shared a bed, he knew that there were plenty of nights that she didn't sleep. Reach for her in his sleep, he only awoke to find that Rebecca wasn't in bed. Most of the time, he'd found her sitting in the window seat across from their bed. Wearing only her thin nightgown, Rebecca would simply sit staring out at the night. He wouldn't say anything, but he'd simply get out of bed and wrap a blanket around her.

"Why don't you go back to bed and lie down?" Gatsby said softly. "You look so tired. I'll have a maid deliver you some dinner."

Just as he rose to ring the bell to summon the butler, Rebecca's small hand darted out and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. Her hands trembled as she held on tightly.

"I can't sleep…the things he did," she admitted softly. "I still dream about it. I haven't slept well in a long time. I doubt I ever will sleep well again."

Sinking back down next to her, Gatsby reached out and gently cupped her cheek, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You can't make it go away," she whispered as a tear slipped down her cheek. "It plays in my mind over and over again sometimes and I can't get it to stop. I can still feel him…touching me and…I can't stop it. It won't go away."

"He can't hurt you anymore," he said softly. "I promised you he won't hurt you. I will always keep my promises."

"You don't know that for certain."

"Yes, I do."

Rebecca didn't look convinced as another tear slipped down her cheek. What he was about to do wasn't something Gatsby had wanted to do. He'd sworn to himself that he would never involve her in his private business affairs. Should something ever happen, he didn't want her tangled up those kinds of problems. Seeing her fears and tears, he knew this one time he would break the vow he'd made. She needed comfort and peace of mind and maybe if she knew the truth about Ares Patrick, she'd have some closure.

Feeling her eyes on him, Gatsby walked to the desk and took the key that was on the chain attached to his fob watch. Unlocking the top drawer, he slowly drew the small leather bound book that was there. Between the pages, the gruesome truth of what had happened to Ares Patrick rested there. Going back, Gatsby slipped the book between her fingers and sat down.

"This must stay between us," he told her softly. "No one can know that these exist. Do you understand? It could cost me my freedom, Rebecca. It could cost me my life."

She looked at him curiously before opening the book. The first picture of Ares' mangled body slipped out from between the pages and a gasp escaped her lips as she stared at the picture in horror. Seeing her reaction, Gatsby slipped the book off her lap as stared at the picture.

"He's never going to bother you again," he said. "I made sure of it."

Her eyes darted from the picture to him and back to the picture.

"I would never congratulate a man on taking the life of another," Rebecca replied softly as she flipped the picture his man, Edwards, had collected over. "Thank you, I will say that."

They both sat in silence until the butler came and announced that dinner was ready.

* * *

 **Saturday**

 **March 1, 1924**

Weeks passed and slowly, February came to an end. There was some improvement in Rebecca's condition. No longer did she simply sit and stare at the wall all day.

Instead, Mrs. Gates had convinced her to take some interest in the house. Most of the day to day function of the house was still carried out by the housekeeper, Mrs. Jenkins, but the fact that Rebecca had taken any interest seemed like a miracle to Gatsby. It was late in the evening and though Gatsby was tired, he couldn't take his eyes away from the sight before him. Trying to escape the cold, a black and white tabby cat had invited itself into the house. It had taken Gatsby all of five seconds to realize that maybe the cat could be more of a help than just catching mice. Rebecca had instantly taken a shine to the lovable cat. Lady, as the cat was now called, was a darling little thing with a new silver bell wrapped around her neck on a lavender colored ribbon. With each little move she made, the soft sound of the bell filled the room softly.

Seated in front of the dying fire, Rebecca had a book open before her as she gently ran her finger tips over the smooth fur of the purring cat. Gatsby watched her turn another page and he couldn't help, but to admire her. No longer did she look as sickly and frail as when he'd first brought her to Fairview Park. Her cheeks and complexion had regained color and her body had regained the some of the soft curves he knew existed under her dress. Although she wasn't completely herself again, he could see improvements. She didn't smile much, but the rare moments she did gave Gatsby hope that someday she'd be herself again. He wanted her back to herself, but Gatsby also acknowledged the small truth that Rebecca might never be the woman she was when he married her. So much had happened between them that he wondered if she'd simply settled in the end with loving him. The haunting though entered his mind and he couldn't help but to shake his head.

Had she settled with him?

Was that why she'd tried to end her life?

Gatsby didn't want to think that she'd just settled with him, but the haunting evidence overwhelmed him. They had been making strides in their relationship up until Elizabeth's death. Rebecca had seemed happy to him. Her smiles had seemed genuine and she had been the one to come to him when she wanted him in her bed. Her kisses had seemed passionate, but had it been a lie?

Continuing to watch her, Gatsby knew that Rebecca would never truly tell anyone the truth. A part of herself was always hidden and she hid herself from him more than anyone. The thought disturbed Gatsby and he silently wondered if he was in part to blame for her attempted suicide.

Was she not as happy as she'd projected?

Had he simply read into the situation what he'd wanted to read?

The thought unnerved him as he tapped his fingers on his knee. He'd been so focused on his own happiness. When Matthew Spring had left New York, Gatsby had rejoiced privately. The British bastard had been an obstacle that he'd been more than happy to demolish, but thinking back, Gatsby wondered if he had done the right thing. Rebecca had loved Matthew long before she'd ever married. She'd turned to the Earl when he hadn't been the best husband. She'd found comfort and passion in the arms of her childhood sweetheart and he hadn't thought about what Rebecca had wanted at the time. Gatsby had been more convinced that he could make Rebecca happier than Matthew could.

Had that been a lie to himself as well?

Could he truly claim that he made her happier?

The truth hit him so hard that Gatsby nearly fell out of the chair. He had no right to decide what made Rebecca happy and what didn't. If he loved her, he would let her decide what made her happy. Her depression after Matthew departure had touched her deeply and Gatsby couldn't help but to wonder if he should have just let her go. Scandal would have resulted, but he would have gladly taken the scandal than and he would gladly take the scandal now if it meant she was alive and happy.

Her being alive was all well and good, but her happiness was something he valued more than anything. There was only one thing he could do and he knew that he had to do it. Standing and slowly going to her, Gatsby lowered himself down to the rug and gently ran his fingertips over Lady's fur. The cat wasn't interested in him and quickly wondered off. Rebecca looked over her shoulder at the cat before looking at him. Taking a deep breath, his eyes met hers and he could feel his chest tightening. Every selfish part of him screamed that he was going to lose her if he didn't shut up, but Gatsby knew it was right. Both he and Matthew had robbed Rebecca of the chance to decide what made her happy.

"I don't know how to make you happy again," Gatsby whispered to her softly. "I don't know how to bring back your smile. God only knows how much I miss it, but I don't know how to make you smile again. You're so very unhappy and I don't know how to make you happy. I love you and seeing you like this breaks my heart."

Rebecca could hear his words, but she said nothing. Outside, the violent snow storm continued on.

"Rebecca," Gatsby said gently. "Look at me. If you're unhappy with me I don't want you to feel like a prisoner. I don't want you live a life filled with regret. If there is someone out there who will make you happy again, I want you to be with him."

Her eyes met his and she couldn't help the tear that escaped. His words touched her unlike anything else. They both knew who ' _him'_ was, but Gatsby didn't know what had happened.

"You would let me go?" she asked softly. "If I wanted to go? Even after you went to Matthew to make sure that I wouldn't leave?"

"I thought then that I could make you happy," he told her. "I just didn't know how wrong I could be. If Matthew is who will make you happy again, I want you to be happy. I've come to realize that loving you means that you come before me. My wishes, my needs, my desires…they're all meaningless. What I want more than anything is you to be happy and I never thought something as basic as that would come from my love for you. The choice is yours. All you have to do is tell me what you want and I will make sure it happens."

Gatsby's words touched her soul and in that moment, Rebecca knew she'd never question that he loved her. She'd once been willing to do whatever made him happy and the fact that he was willing to do what made her happy touched her in a way that she'd never imagined.

Gatsby loved her enough to let her leave him if it made her happy. He wanted her happy, but Rebecca wasn't sure she'd ever be happy again. Raising her hand to cup his cheek, Rebecca gave him a soft smile when he covered her hand with his.

"You poor, silly man. I love you," she whispered softly before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.


	20. XIX: Young & Beautiful (Part II)

**Part XIX: Young & Beautiful (Part II)**

 _"...Will you still love me_  
 _When I'm no longer young and beautiful?_  
 _Will you still love me_  
 _When I got nothing but my aching soul?_  
 _I know you will, I know you will_  
 _I know that you will_  
 _Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful..."_

~ "Young & Beautiful" - Lana Del Rey

 **September 15, 1924**

Rebecca took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The jolting of the car wasn't helping the nausea she was feeling, but she wasn't going to let Gatsby know. She wasn't sure how she was going to tell him her news, but she wasn't in any rush to do so. She wasn't quite sure when it happened, but sometime in May, their lives had been changed. A smile crept to her face as she reflected over the summer. It had been so nice to be tucked away from the city.

Spending time with Jay had been unlike anything she'd ever imagined. They'd easily fallen into a routine when spring had come. Business and household matters were dealt with for a few hours after breakfast and the afternoons belonged to them. Jay had given her control of the household accounts and Rebecca had found herself quickly redecorating the house to her tastes. Much of the decor that had been in place stayed and she matched the new pieces to the remaining French influence. The house reminded her of a quaint country house in the peaceful, quiet French countryside.

While they'd spent plenty of the rainy afternoons that had come in April inside, the rest of the months had been spent outside. Nearly a half mile from the house, a small lake resided on the property. Really not much larger than a pond, the small lake was surrounded by shady trees that went around the lake in a 'u' shape before opening into a beautiful field of wild flowers. They often had the housekeeper pack them a picnic basket for lunch before Jay drove them out to the lake in his yellow custom car.

A giant oak tree was situated near the lake and it was often where they sat on a quilt and ate. One afternoon, Rebecca had been shocked when Gatsby had simply taken his clothes off and had dived into the water after a late lunch. He'd surfaced with a smile and had encouraged her to join him. He'd teased her and cajoled her until she'd admitted that she'd never learned how to swim. Despite the humid day, she'd prefer to stay on dry land. He hadn't taken her 'no' for an answer and he'd taught her to swim that afternoon. Under the warm sun of that early May afternoon, she'd floated on the surface of the water. There had been something so calming and so peaceful about floating. The world had seemed to simply fade away when she closed her eyes.

Afterwards, she'd lain on the quilt in the partial sun and had dried out with him. It had only taken a single kiss from Gatsby ignite the passion that they'd both feeling from the moment she'd let him teach her to float. There had been no one around and the yellow car had blocked anyone's line of sight. With just one kiss, neither one of them had been able to stop that afternoon. Under that aging oak tree, Rebecca was sure that had been the afternoon that had forever changed them as they'd made love together. Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she frowned as they passed by West Egg. Gatsby had said he'd had a surprise for her, but she wasn't sure what it was. Turning to look at him, she watched as he read a letter from Nick. Something had stained their relationship and she'd asked what had happened. Deep down, Rebecca knew that Gatsby liked Nick too much to push him away completely. She smiled seeing his lips move as he read the words on the page. She'd learned all Gatsby's mannerisms in just a few short months that it surprised her and in some ways, it didn't.

She'd always loved Jay.

There was no denying that she'd always loved him, but there was a difference between loving someone and trusting that love and that person. Trust had been the biggest thing that they had both been missing from each other. Trust had been the one thing that they had needed to build between them and Gatsby's admission that he'd willing let her leave him if it meant she'd be happy had been the first step in building that trust. The moment he'd said the words, Rebecca knew that he was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She'd always love him for saying what he'd said, because it had been just what she needed to hear. To Jay, she wasn't undesirable or broken. There was nothing wrong with her and he loved her just the way she was. He loved her even when she had violent tantrums that rivaled a child's. He simply laughed, kissed her cheek and told her that as long as she didn't hurt one of the maids, she was free to destroy whatever she liked. It had angered her when he'd said those words, but Rebecca knew that he'd been teasing her unmercifully.

Feeling his hand touch hers, Rebecca looked down to his fingers wrap around hers. Turning to look back out the window, she watched the greenery pass them by as they traveled down the road. She could still feel the warm, soft caress of Gatsby lips on her skin as he'd made love to her that May afternoon. Heat still built inside her as she thought about each touch they'd shared. That afternoon had triggered something between them and it had seemed like never could they have enough of each other. The whole summer had slipped by them as they'd made love wherever and whenever they could. Exploring each other had taken time and Rebecca was sure there was nothing in the world more precious to her than those memories of their first real summer together. She could only hope that they would go back to Fairview Park next year. The place had become their refuge and it had taken all her courage not to cry when they'd left the house earlier in the day.

"We'll go back next summer for a few weeks," Gatsby said out loud as if he'd been reading her thoughts. "I promise."

She nodded and didn't doubt his words. Rebecca had learned quickly that when Jay promised something, he meant it. His promises were something she'd never have to worry about. He meant them and she knew he'd never let her down. Every single promise he'd made to her had been right.

Ares Patrick could never hurt her again and when he'd promised things would get better for her, he hadn't lied. She could only hope that her darkest times were behind her. The thought of Elizabeth and Mary still brought sadness to her heart, but Rebecca knew that they'd want her to move on from grieving them and live her life to the fullest. They'd want her to be happy with Jay, make peace with Nick, and forgive him for bring Daisy back.

She didn't know if Daisy was still living at Harper House and Gatsby hadn't told her if he knew what was happening. In reality, Rebecca didn't want to know if Daisy was there. The car pulled down a road and Rebecca watched with intrigue as they came to a gated drive. Now in East Egg, she looked around as them as the car passed slowly through the gated front. Immaculate green lawns and beautiful trees passed her gaze as they drove up the path. Looking to Gatsby, she smiled seeing his grin. She knew that he was up to something.

"What did you do?" she asked as Gatsby leaned forward and said something to the driver. Just as they turned the corner, the treeline broke and the most breathtaking house that Rebecca had ever seen came into view. There were at least forty glittering windows that shined in the afternoon light. Her feet seemed to move at their own accord and she found herself exiting the stopped Rolls Royce. Standing in the shade of the trees at seemed to form an almost archway over the drive, Rebecca stared at the beautiful house.

"Do you like it?" Gatsby asked her with smile as he stepped out of the car as well. Slowly, Brighton pulled away from them and continued up the drive. Rebecca knew that it wasn't custom to walk to the house, but she wanted to see everything.

"It's beautiful," she gushed as she took out her small lace parasol and opened it. "I don't think I've seen a more beautiful house…excepting Fairview Park, of course. Are we visiting a business client of yours? They must think me so rude for getting out and walking to their front door."

Gatsby laughed as he offered his arm. Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, Rebecca looked at him anxiously before relaxing. Seeing Gatsby's smile calmed her as he began leading her up one of the smooth, brick paths.

"No, we're not visiting a client," he told her. "I sold Gatsby Manor in West Egg."

His words surprised her as they walked along the flower lined path. They were starting to enter what seemed like the front gardens and passing through an archway, a magnificent fountain greeted her sight as they reached the circle drive that was outside the front of the house. The Rolls Royce was parked out front and Gatsby guided her towards the steps. Crawley was already standing at attention with the staff inside already to greet their mistress.

The large limestone steps lead up to the house and inside, the most beautiful entry hall Rebecca had ever seen greeted her eyes. High arching ceilings above them and a stunning grand staircase, the hall was massive and her heels clicked against the white and black marble floors creating an echo. The staff was quickly introduced again to her and Rebecca remembered old, familiar faces, but she also saw a few new ones mixed in. Pressed, she couldn't remember anyone's name.

She was simply overwhelmed by the house and quickly, Gatsby began giving her the grand tour. The main floor contained a library, study, drawing room, a beautiful grand ballroom, a music room, dining room. One of the features that Rebecca loved the most was the four different parlors that could be used based on the season. The summer parlor was situated in the back and was a beautiful room. Surrounded by French glass doors, the sheer white valences fluttered in the window as she opened one of the doors that led outside. A massive stone porch wrapped around the back of the house and steps led down to a second and third level. Chairs were set about and from the view of the gardens, Rebecca paused before turning to Gatsby. Handsome, he was leaning against the door way of the parlor with a smile on his face.

"This looks familiar," she told him. "Like I've been here before."

"You have," he replied. "You designed it."

"No," Rebecca said in disbelief as the pieces came together in her head. "You had me sit down with that man and design gardens. How long have you been planning this?"

Looking out to the bay, Rebecca closed her eyes feeling his arms slip around her. She felt safe and secure in his arms as he kissed her neck and caressed her skin.

"I've been planning this for a while," he murmured softly. "Since sometime last year and I wanted everything just perfect for you."

Seeing the beautiful garden still in bloom and the dock on the bay past the sweeping lawn, Rebecca couldn't the joy that she felt inside.

"A house? You got a new house?"

Turning her towards him, Rebecca felt him tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear as he smiled at her.

"Your house," he whispered softly. "Your house to decorate as you choose. No expenses will be spared and all you have to do is tell me exactly what you want and I'll do my best to procure it from anywhere."

Laughter bubbled from her lips as she threw her arms around him, "I love you, you dear, sweet man. You didn't have to do this, but thank you."

"I wanted to," he told her after her laughter had died down a few moments later. "You deserve a beautiful house that is all your own and I never want you to feel—"

She cut him off with a kiss and Rebecca couldn't stop herself. They both fell easily into the kiss and it ended far too soon for her liking.

"I take it that you love the house," Gatsby murmured, his eyes still closed.

"I adore it," Rebecca whispered to him, never letting him out of her embrace. "Just like I adore you. I think it's perfect. I've never seen such a beautiful house and I've only seen a few rooms. You haven't even shown me the bedrooms upstairs."

A wicked grin came to Gatsby lips as he opened his eyes, "You do know that we will have to fill this house with the pitter-patter of feet. It's too large for just us to live here by ourselves."

With a knowing smile, Rebecca knew that after dinner she'd tell him. She'd finally tell Jay that by next summer, they'd have the start of the family they'd both been dreamed of having someday.


	21. Epilogue

**July, 1932**

 **Gatsby House**

Rebecca smiled as she sat down on the edge of Alexander's bed. At the age of eight, the little boy resembled Gatsby so much that it sometime frightened her. His dark blond head rested on the feathery pillow and the blankets were pulled up to his chin. In his sleep, he looked exactly like the sweet, innocent little boy he was. While many people had lost everything they'd had from the stock market crash, Gatsby had weathered the storm very well. Tucked away in East Egg, many of their neighbors and friends had also weathered the storm. Many of the newly rich, however, hadn't survived. At eight, Rebecca wanted nothing more than to shield Alexander and his siblings away from the outside world. She knew that there was time coming and soon, where she wouldn't be able to stop the outside world from leaking in and threatening the small, perfect sphere she'd tried to keep around him. Alexander was already learning little details from his tutors.

Pressing a kiss to the little boy's head, Rebecca was grateful that he didn't feel warm anymore. Her little prince had felt feverish earlier in the day and both she and Gatsby had been quick to make sure Alexander's nursemaid had put him to bed. As a baby, they'd nearly lost him to fever when he'd been a year old. It had made her and Jay far more protective about who came into contact with their son when he'd been younger. Now, as a healthy eight year old, Alexander was far too curious to be smothered by their overprotective ways. More often than not, Alexander could always be found with nine year old Henry Carraway. Had Elizabeth lived, Rebecca was sure Henry would have given her younger sister a stroke. Both boys lived for thrills and often returned with bruises or were caught attempting to repair something they'd inadvertently broken.

Gatsby's study had become a courtroom on more than one occasion as her husband played the role of judge and jury in delivering up punishments. Smiling to herself and wondering what trouble Alexander would find tomorrow, Rebecca stood up.

At thirty-two, time had been more than generous to her. Her figure had changed since the day she'd married Gatsby, but she was hard pressed to find any sign of aging on her skin. Moving to the door that separated Alexander's nursery room from the girls, she left the door cracked between the rooms as moonlight illuminated the little boy's nursery room. A lone figure opened the other door to the room and Rebecca felt her heart flutter in her chest as she watched Gatsby enter the room. He walked to the little boy's bed and leaned down. Jay pressed a kiss to the little boy's head before he pulled the blanket that was at the end of the bed up a little higher. His lips linger on Alexander's head for only a moment before he moved over to her.

From the candle she held, Rebecca could see Gatsby's features illuminated. At forty-two, Gatsby was almost as unchanged as she was. He was still as fit as the day she'd married him. The only thing that had changed was the small amount of silver that had begun to appear at Gatsby's temples. They blended well with his dark blond hair and despite the small laugh lines beginning to appear at the corner of his eyes, Gatsby looked as handsome as ever.

"Did you check on the girls?" he asked softly. "Are they asleep?"

They both peered into the second nursery room and looked the two beds. The closest bed to them contained the smaller little girl. At four, Rosalie was a firecracker with a temper that rivaled others. Quick and sharp, Gatsby joked often that Rosie would keep his hands full for many years to come. He didn't know how right he was. The little blue eyed, blonde haired girl had Gatsby wrapped around her finger just as tightly as her six year old sister, Elizabeth. Both girls would someday easily look like twins, Rebecca was sure of it. Slipping into the room, Rebecca pressed a kiss to each girl's cheek as Gatsby did the same. Assured that both girls were warm enough and tucked in, Rebecca slipped out into the hallway and blew out the candle. Gatsby slipped out behind her and closed the door quietly.

"They get bigger with everyday," he murmured to her quietly before he offered her his arm. Dressed for a party, Rebecca looked down at the silk gown she wore and shook her head. Only earlier in the evening had the girls come running into her dressing room begging to watch her maid, Sally, do her hair. Rebecca had let them sit for only a few minutes before their nursemaid had come to collect them for their baths. Promising to play dress up later, Rebecca had watched them go wondering how much longer before it would be Elizabeth and Rosalie getting ready to go parties.

She didn't dare share the thought with Gatsby. He wasn't ready for his little girls to grow up. He was still under the impression that they would be little girls forever. He still believed that they'd come and bother him late in the afternoon to read with them or chase them around the house and play hide-and-go-seek. She didn't want to shatter the safety net that Gatsby had woven for himself and quite honestly, she didn't want him going to go scouting places to hide the future dead bodies of young men who tried to woo his little girls.

Instead, she simply nodded as they walked down the hallway. They both descended the grand staircase as the new butler waited for them at the front door. Crawley had retired and had died only a year prior. Rebecca's heart had been broken at the news, but Mr. Gibson from Fairview Park had been easily promoted to the position. It was strange not seeing Crawley there, but Rebecca was slowly growing used to it. Gatsby helped her with her shawl and gloves before he took his own hat and over coat. While fashions had rapidly changed, Rebecca was still a clinger to the old fashions like Gatsby was. Like many of the older women in society, she dressed with the same class and elegance that she had when she'd first come out to society in 1918.

"Do you ever think about what they'll be like as adults?" Gatsby asked her later as they sat in the back of the silver Rolls Royce. They'd agreed to go out with Nick for a night and Rebecca couldn't help, but smile at the thought of dancing with Gatsby after dinner as Wolfsheim teased them both unmercifully for acting like a pair of newlyweds.

"I imagine one of our daughters becoming a duchess."

Gatsby burst out laughing and Rebecca couldn't help but to laugh at the absurdity of her comment.

Neither one of them knew just how close they were to the truth in that moment. While never becoming a duchess, Elizabeth would become the Countess of Kettlemore in 1948. At the age of eighteen, she'd marry twenty four year old Edmund "Eddie" Spring, Earl of Kettlemore after becoming a pen-pal to the young man during World War II. It would be by pure chance that her letter to a friend serving as a nurse in London would become mixed up in his mail. That single letter would spark the love affair that would last a lifetime between the two and the love story that was never meant to between their parents, would live on.

Matthew had been right.

The love they'd shared would find them in the next lifetime. He just hadn't known it would be indirectly through his son and her daughter.


	22. Author's Note: Author's Fan Art, ect

**Author's Note:**

 **Thank you so much for reading and I hope that you enjoyed this repost!**

 **Recovering4Life did make several pieces of fan art related to this fic as well as a trailer on youtube. The trailer is still posted on youtube under 'BECOMING MRS. GATSBY' and the link to polyvore (where the fan art is located) is on my author's page. I have joined my own fan art and hers together on the site.**

 **Feel free to explore and enjoy! Any feed back is appreciated!**

 **H4TH**


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